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PR  I » 


JHAP  1  6  193^Z<i. 
OCT  17  1 


.osAofeles.Cai 


HALF-HOURS 


WITH 


GREAT  AUTHORS, 


WM.    M.     THACKERAY,      T.    B.    MACAULAY, 

BRET  HARTE,   THOMAS  HOOD, 

AND  OTHERS. 


CHICAGO  AND  NEW  YORK: 
BELFORD,    CLARKE   &    CO.  ' 

1884. 


printed  and  bound  by 
Donohue  &  Hknnkbkrry, 

CHICAGO. 


) 


'//?*. 


1 


CONTENTS. 


PAGfe 

»  A  Terrible  Temptation 

F.  C.  Bumand 

7 

•  George  De  Barnwell 

W.  M.  Thackeray 

67 

»  Prophetic  Account  of  a  Future  Epic 

T.  B.  Macatday    . 

92 

St.  Twel'mo      .... 

JohnPaul  . 

in 

»  Lessons  in  Biography  . 

Rev.  J.  Beresford  . 

174 

»  Mr.  John  Jenkins 

Bret  Harte 

184 

»  Ho  Fi  of  the  Yellow  Girdle 

T.   T.   T.      . 

193 

»  Walton  Redivivus   . 

Thomas  Hood  . 

230 

A  TREBLE  TEMPTATION, 

By  the  Author  of  "  It  is  always  too  early  to  Sew,"    "  Love  me  Tall,  Lov« 
me  Short,"  "Who's  Griffiths?"  etc. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IR  CHARLES  BUSSIT  was,from  an  early 
age,  subject  to  fits,  but  he  inherited  the 
Tuppennie  Bussit  Estates.  Mr.  Robert 
Bussit,  his  cousin,  would  have  done  so  if  Sir  Charles 
hadn't.  Hence  Robert's  hatred  of  Charles.  Nothing 
more  simple. 

Sir  Charles,  being  a  gay  young  man,  was  on  visit- 
ing terms  with  the  beautiful  La  Dorchester.  Be- 
coming, suddenly,  a  marrying  man,  he  fell  deeply 
in  love  with  Miss  Isidora  Spruce.  Robert  also 
loved  her.  This  was  an  additional  reason  for  his 
hating  Sir  Charles,  and  added  fuel  to  the  flame. 

From  this  moment,  Robert  commenced  writing 
anonymous  letters  to  Isidora  and  her  father.      He 


8  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

wrote  at  least  twenty  a-day,  signing  them  differently 
every  time.  Observing  that  the  letters  were  taken 
in,  but  that  the  young  lady  and  her  father  were  not, 
he  had  recourse  to  other  means. 

He  called  on  La  Dorchester,  who  saw  through 
him  at  once,  played  him  adroitly,  and  then  ordered 
him  out  of  the  house. 

This  was  his  third  reason  for  hating  his  cousin. 

He  now  took  to  shouting  through  the  keyholes 
and  windows  of  Sir  Alexander  Spruce's  house  defam- 
ations of  Sir  Charles's  character. 

These  energetic  means,  at  last,  had  their  effect. 

Sir  Charles  being  refused  admittance,  had  a  suc- 
cession of  fits  on  the  doorstep.  He  was  told  to 
move  on  by  a  policeman,  and  was  rescued  from  his 
painful  situation  by  La  Dorchester  in  her  pony- 
chaise,  who  thenceforth  took  the  matter  in  her  own 
hands. 

Robert  was  now  delighted,  and,  on  the  strength 
of  the  probability  of  the  Tuppennie  Bussit  Estates 
coming  to  him,  bought  a  secondhand  brass  door- 
plate,  with  somebody  else's  name  on  it. 

Sir  Charles  Bussit  got  over  his  fits,  and  came  out 
stronger  than  ever. 

This  sent  up  Robert's  hatred  to  fever  heat. 


A    TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  g 

It  was  evident  that  the  Tuppennie  Bussit  Estates 
had  slipped  from  his  grasp  for  this  once. 
Then  he  waited. 
But  while  he  waited,  La  Dorchester  acted 


CHAPTER  II. 

SIDORA  SPRUCE  was  the  daughter  of 
Commander-in-Chief  Spruce,  a  retired 
veteran  much  beloved  by  his  officers  and 
men,  as  a  genuine  martinet  of  the  old  school.  So 
much  was  he  beloved,  that  when  he  retired,  the 
entire  army  retired  with  him.  This  led  to  complica- 
tions and  subsequent  alterations  in  the  Purchase 
System. 

Isidora  was  a  blonde,  tall  and  mince,  with  gentle 
blue  wondering  eyes,  of  about  the  middle  height, 
with  dark  brown  tresses,  and  rather  inclined  to  that 
sort  of  embmprint  which  is  the  sure  sign  of  gentle 
descent. 

She  was  always  saying,  "May  I?"  in  a  plaintive 
tone,  which  caused  her  to  be  a  favorite  with  every 
one. 

To  this  her  fond  doting  father  had  but  one  answer, 
"No.  you  mayn't,"  which  evinced  the  deep  sympathy 
existing  between  the  parent  and  child. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  IX 

"May  I  marry  Sir  Charles  Bussit?"she  asked, 
one  morning,  as  they  were  seated  together  on  a 
canapb  de  luxe,  breakfasting  lightly  ;  "  May  I  ?  " 

"No,  you  mayn't,"  answered  the  Commander-in- 
Chief,  his  eyes  filling  with  the  moisture  which  so 
often  accompanies  the  sudden  deglutition  of  over- 
caloricated  bohea. 

"  May  I  give  him  up  ?  "  she  inquired,  playfully, 
"  May  I  ?  " 

"No,  you  mayn't,"  replied  the  Warrior. 

That  was  all  she  wanted.  She  had  gained  her 
point,  and  so,  tapping  him  lightly  on  the  head  with 
a  bootjack,  which  she  had  been  embroidering  for  his 
especial  use,  she  glided  from  the  room. 

"  Two  persons  wanted  to  see  his  Commander-in- 
Chief-ship,"  a  servant  said.'    "  Might  they  enter  ?  " 

"  No,  they  mightn't,"  returned  the  Veteran.  So 
they  came  in. 

It  was  Sir  Charles's  solicitor,  Mr.  Slyboots,  and 
La  Dorchester. 

The  Commander-in-Chief  motioned  them  to  a 
chair.  They  took  two,  and  seated  themselves.  So 
far  all  was  well. 

Then  what  happened  ? 

Why,  La  Dorchester,  with  a  woman's  ready  wit, 


1 2  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

introduced  the  old  Solicitor  to  the  old  Warrior,  and 
the  Solicitor,  with  the  cunning  of  his  craft,  answered 
to  his  cue,  and  introduced  La  Dorchester  to  the 
Commander-in-Chief. 

"  Mr.  Slyboots," — La  Dorchester  said. 

The  Commander-in-Chief  bowed.  So  did  Mr. 
Slyboots. 

"La Dor" — commenced  Slyboots,  courteously. 

" — Chester,"  said  the  Lady,  brusquely.  Then 
they  sat  still  and  wondered. 


CHAPTER  III. 

N  two  minutes  the  Veteran  was  put  in 
possession  of  The  Facts.  This  was  owing 
entirely  to  the  female  tact  and  ready  wit. 
She  went  to  the  point  at  once,  while  Slyboots, 
with  professional  routine,  would  have  read  prece- 
dents, habendum  clauses,  and  the  history  of  Nisi 
Prius  before  coming  to  the  object  of  their  visit.  He 
had  prepared  himself  with  documents.  Before  he 
had  got  them  all  arranged  on  the  table,  from  which 
he  was  obliged  to  sweep  the  Sevres  cups,  saucers, 
urn  and  spirit-lamp,  La  Dorchester  had  stated  the 
case.     She  exculpated  Sir  Charles. 

Isidora  had  expected  these  visitors,  and,  Love  be- 
ing capable  of  meannesses,  had  concealed  herself 
within  hearing. 

The  Veteran  suspected  as  much,  and  saw  through 
La  Dorchester's  plan.  He  quietly  moved  the  ormolu 
fire-screen  to  the  front  of  the  grate. 


l4  TREASURE-TROVE. 

By  this  movement  of  the  old  Campaigner  La  Dor- 
chester was  unexpectedly  checkmated. 

Then  she  told  her  story,  and  Slyboots  listened, 
legal  documents  in  hand,  dismayed. 

He  would  have  stopped  her  had  it  been  in  his 
power,  but  perceiving,  with  the  true  instinct  of  an  old 
student  of  Barnard's  Inn,  that  this  was  not  possible, 
he  carefully  adjusted  the  red  tape  on  the  sixty  parch- 
ments he  had  brought  with  him,  and  sat  silent,  with 
Blackstone  on  his  knee,  for  warmth. 

"  Hush,  Madam  !  not  so  loud,  please,"  whispered 
the  Commander-in-Chief,  looking  uneasily  towards 
the  chimney. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  bawled  his  beautiful  visitor,  at  the 
top  of  her  voice.     Listeners  never  hear  no  good 

OF  THEMSELVES,  DO  THEY?  " 

With  this  the  bold  woman  rose  suddenly  from  her 
chair,  and,  spurning  the  drugget,  dashed  at  the  po- 
ker, seized  it,  and  upset  the  ormolu  screen. 

"  May  I?"  said  a  sweet  voice  from  about  two  yards 
up  the  chimney. 

"  No,  you  mayn't,"  returned  the  Veteran. 

But  she  could  not  control  herself,  and  gliding 
downwards,  fell  at  La  Dorchester's  feet,  her  head  on 
her  outstretched  hands. 


A  TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  15 

Isidora,  from  her  well-chosen  place  of  concealment, 
had  heard  every  syllable.  She  was  prostrated,  writh- 
ing, blackened.  For  this  last  she  cared  little.  Soot 
blackens  faces,  not  characters ;  this  they  well  knew, 
and  felt  it. 

The  Commander-in-Chief  was  the  first  to  speak 
and  break  the  silence. 

He  addressed  La  Dorchester. 

"  For  shame,  Madam  !  "  said  the  Commander-in- 
Chief.     Whereupon  both  women  began  to  cry. 

Then  the  Commander-in-Chief  looked  at  the  Solic- 
itor, and  the  Solicitor  looked  at  himself  in  a  glass, 
and  himself  in  a  glass  looked  at  Isidora,  who,  in  her 
turn,  looked  at  La  Dorchester. 

They  all  sighed  deeply,  and  said  nothing. 

In  another  second  La  Dorchester  was  on  her  legs, 
giving  eloquent  screams. 

"  He  loves  you  still !  "  said  the  Solicitor,  vaguely. 
It  is  in  some  natures  to  be  vague,  and  his  was  one  of 
those  natures.     Otherwise  he  was  a  clever  man. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IVE  weeks  after  this  the  bells  of  Tuppen- 

nie  Bussit  Church  rang  out  a  merry  peal. 

The  ringers  had  practised  triple  bob  ma- 
jors, two  bobs,  bobs  and  tizzies,  bobs  and  benders,  and 
other  varieties  of  the  ringer's  art,  until  they  were 
perfect  in  the  first  two  bars  of  the  Dead  March  in 
Saul.  This  once  mastered,  they  gave  way  with  a 
will. 

Then  came  ten  outriders,  ushered  by  six  hussars, 
each  bearing  a  banner  with  a  motto,  and  followed  by 
a  van  covered  with  pictures  of  celebrated  fat  women, 
the  Giant  of  Norfolk,  the  Lion  Tamer,  and  the  Bat- 
tle of  Trafalgar  in  oils  and  distemper. 

Then  there  was  a  loud  cheer  from  the  steeple, 
which,  getting  quite  shaky  with  excitement,  tried  to 
come  down  and  join  the  throng.  Presently  several 
Spiritualistic  mediums,  specially  engaged  for  the  oc- 
casion, floated  about  the  top  of  Bussit  House,  waving 


A  TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  i, 

flags.  Murmurs.  Cheers.  Tears.  Horses  heard 
in  the  distance.  More  distance,  more  horses. 
Bussit  gates  flung  open,  and  keepers,  grooms, 
peasants,  cooks,  housekeepers,  butlers,  footmen  and 
pages,  all  clustering  about  on  each  other's  shoulders, 
and  hanging  in  festoons  from  the  heights  of  the 
ancient  portals. 

Then  more  outriders,  riding  outside  their  horses, 
boldly.  Then  a  troop  of  less  daring  horsemen,  who, 
fearing  the  shouts  of  the  crowd,  had  got  inside,  and 
pulled  the  blinds  down.  Then  came  the  carriage  itself, 
drawn  by  twenty  wild  horses  in  front,  and  pushed  up 
behind  by  as  many  more  of  the  same  breed.  The 
drag  was  down,  but  they  dashed  through  the  little 
village,  amid  roars  of  delight  from  the  millions  that 
had  congregated  to  witness  this  great  event. 

The  carriage  was  open,  and  in  it  sat  Sir  Charles 
and  Isidora :  she  quite  blinded  the  sun's  rays  with 
her  beauty,  so  much  so  that  some  elderly  people, 
more  knowing  than  the  rest,  got  out  smoked  glasses 
to  look  at  her,  and  others,  not  so  learned,  thought 
the  whole  affair  was  an  eclipse,  and  went  home  to 
write  to  the  local  papers. 

"  May  I  ? "  she  said. 

Her  husband  smiled  assent,  and,  rising  from  her 


1 8  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

seat,  she  leapt  on  to  the  nearest  horse's  back,  and 
performed    several    feats    of    horsemanship,    which 
raised  the  enthusiasm  of  the  spectators  to  an  unprece- 
dented pitch. 

Robert  Bussit  saw,  and  the  sight  thrilled  him. 
Catching  his  eye,  she  quivered  for  an  instant ;  but 
in  another  second  she  was  back,  at  a  single  bound, 
clearing  fifty-five  feet  upwards,  and  downwards,  and 
into  her  husband's  carriage,  scattering  largesse  to 
the  crowd  around. 

Then  they  swept  into  the  Mansion,  smiling,  caper- 
ing, laughing,  screaming,  through  files  of  retainers 
in  every  sort  of  varied  costume,  radiant  with  squibs, 
crackers,  and  Catherine-wheels  in  their  button-holes, 
with  which  they  made  a  fine  display,  and  Isidora 
thought  no  more  of  Robert  Bussit,  than  a  bright 
Bird  of  Paradise  thinks  of  last  year's  boots. 

But  Birds  of  Paradise  can't  be  always  thinking  of 
boots ;  and  boots,  with  something  living  in  them, 
may  rise  up,  thick-soled,  and  kick,  until  the  Bright 
Creature  feels  the  pain,  shudders,  droops,  and  falls 
into  the  dust 


CHAPTER  V. 

OBERT  BUSSIT,  acting  upon  the  advice 

of  Sniffkin,  his  friend  and  solicitor,  had 

married  a  pale-faced  wife.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  one  of  Sniffkin's  clients,  and  had 
conceived  a  gentle  admiration  for  Robert's  torso. 
His  torso,  and  his  color,  which  was  a  brightish  red, 
like  sunset  on  a  carrot,  with  just  the  slightest  sus- 
picion of  green  in  the  left  eye,  pleased  her.  She  had 
fifty  thousand  pounds,  nominally  to  provide  her  with  a 
trousseau,  and  this  excited  Robert  Bussit's  admiration. 

It  was  simply  Trousseau  caught  by  Torso,  or  vice 
versa  if  you  will. 

When  Molly  Borne,  to  whom  Robert  had  artfully 
promised  himself  some  time  before,  heard  the  bells 
ringing  for  this  wedding,  she  writhed  all  over  Tup- 
pennie  Bussit  house,  like  an  injured  basilisk.  On 
the  evening  of  Robert's  wedding  she  stood  by  his 
back  gate  and  threw  stones  at  him.  He  then  saw 
that  for  this  woman  his  torso  had  no  power.     Then 


20  TREASURE-  TRO  VE. 

he  admired  her.  But  this  feeling  gave  way  to  fear  : 
the  Hater  was  confronted  by  a  Hatred,  strong,  un- 
relenting, as  his  own. 

Within  a  year  of  this  union  of  Torso  with  Trous- 
seau, the  bells  of  Tuppennie  Bussit  church  rang  again. 

This  time  they  announced  the  first  appearance  of 
a  small  Robert  Bussit,  and  Robert  Bussit,  ptre,  was 
all  over  the  place  with  prideful  joy. 

It  was  all  Boy  with  him  now.  His  doubts  were 
developing  into  certainties.  His  hopes  boy'd  him 
up,  and  so  inflated  did  he  become,  that,  but  for  his 
friend  Sniffkin  and  a  couple  of  stout  ropes,  he  would 
have  risen,  balloon-like,  floated  over  the  house-top, 
and  have  been  lost. 

But  Sniffkin  couldn't  afford  to  lose  so  valuable  a 
client.     Hence  his  method. 

After  a  time  he  calmed  down. 

Then  the  Hater  came  well  to  the  front.  He  built 
a  tower  sixteen  hundred  feet  high,  by  five  in  circum- 
ference, with  a  sort  of  tank  at  the  top,  roofed  in,  and 
pierced  with  large  windows,  whence  he  could  com- 
mand a  Birdseye  view  of  the  entire  Tuppennie  Bussit 
estates.  Here  he  and  Mrs.  Bussit,  with  the  Future 
Heir  in  Sniffkin's  arms,  would  sit  taking  tea  and 
shrimps  on  a  summer's  evening. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  21 

Here  it  was  his  delight  to  point  out  to  the  child 
all  that  should  be  his  in  prospect. 

This  tower  he  called  the  Tower  of  Teazer. 

From  here  he  could  throw  cups  and  saucers  down 
on  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Bussit's  heads  as  they  took 
their  evening  walk. 

They  wondered  at  first  where  they  came  from. 
After  a  time  they  ceased  to  wonder. 

All  this  began  to  have  an  effect  on  a  man  naturally 
irritable.  Sir  Charles  7vas  naturally  irritable.  In 
addition,  Robert  Bussit  grew  a  magnificent  mus- 
tache. It  was  the  talk  of  the  whole  place.  This  his 
cousin  had  never  been  able  to  accomplish.  Robert 
now  appeared  with  a  beard  perfectly  Oriental  and  a 
profusion  of  long  glossy  hair.  Sir  Charles  and  Lady 
Bussit  became  aware  of  his  head  and  face  one  day, 
thrust  out  at  them,  over  the  top  of  a  hedge. 

Lady  Bussit  saw  and  sighed.  This  chafed  the 
Hairless  man.  He  tried  extra  shaving,  but  cut  him- 
self severely.  Smarting  under  his  wound  Sir  Charles 
spoke  unkindly  to  his  wife.  Lady  Bussit  bore  all 
with  resignation.  Let  this  be  remembered  to  her 
credit. 

Then  little,  meek,  pale  Mrs.  Bussit,  at  the  instiga- 


22  TREASURE-TROVE. 

tion  of  her  husband,  let  down  her  back  hair,  and 
displayed  it  over  the  tower.  It  reached  nearly  half- 
way to  the  ground. 

Lady  Bussit  had  nothing  of  her  own  but  a  chignon. 
Sir  Charles  couldn't  assist  her.  Then  they  both, 
avoiding  one  another,  and  taking  different  ways,  would 
wander  down  into  the  village,  and  stand  gazing  into 
the  barbers'  windows,  where  there  were  lifelike  block 
heads  with  Circassian  hair.  This  constant  pining 
produced  an  effect  purely  physical  on  Lady  Bussit. 

She  moulted. 

Sir  Charles  gradually  became  bald. 

One  day,  in  his  justice  room,  he  sentenced  a  gipsy 
for  stealing  a  hare.  The  woman  was  led  out  wailing 
and  protesting  her  innocence.  It  was  on  Robert 
Bussit's  evidence,  and  a  murmur  of  applause  went 
through  the  justice  room,  when  the  people  saw  his 
splendid  torso  and  glorious  locks,  mustache  and 
beard.  Lady  Bussit  was,  on  these  magisterial 
occasions,  accommodated  with  a  seat  on  the  bench 
in  the  study.  Robert  walked  out.  Husband  and 
wife  were  alone.  She  threw  herself  at  his  knees. 
"  O  Charles  !  can  such  things  be  ?  " 

Then  he  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  could  not,  and 
the  Hairless  ones  wept  together. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OBERT  BUSSIT  had   seen,  heard,  and 
had  taken  to  thinking. 

The  result  of  his  cogitation  was  soon 
obvious. 
It  was  this. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  that  Sir  Charles  was 
mad.  The  French  have  their  expression  ror  his 
madness,  we  have  not.  Fou  comme  un  chabelier. 
What  was  to  be  done  ? 

.  Robert  Bussit  took  counsel   with  his  old  friend 
Sniffkin. 

Sniffkin  saw  the  difficulty,  and  touched  it. 
Sir  Charles's  sanity  hung  on  a  single  hair.     On 
consideration  it  was  evident  that  he  was  only  fit  for 
one  place. 

The  Zoological  Gardens. 
But  how  to  get  him  there  ? 
Sniffkin  explained  technically 


24  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

Robert  Bussit  was  not  in  a  humor  for  technicali- 
ties. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  man,"  he  cried,  "  tell  me  how 
to  do  it,  and  I'll  do  it." 

Sniffkin  calmed  him  down  by  tickling  him  under 
the  left  ear,  and  then,  quietly  lighting  a  cigar,  ex- 
plained his  method. 

It  was  necessary  to  obtain  three  magistrates'  orders 
and  a  certificate  of  improper  vaccination.  That  was 
all. 

Robert  Bussit  slept  soundly  that  night,  for  he  saw 
his  way,  at  last,  clear  to  the  Tuppennie  Bussit 
estates. 

In  f  ie  morning  he  and  Sniffkin  swore  the  neces- 
sary .nformation,  and  before  two  o'clock  Sir  Charles 
was  safely  locked  up  with  the  bears. 

At  three  he  was  fed. 

The  next  day  people  brought  him  buns,  and  he 
amused  himself  by  climbing  up  the  pole.  There 
was  no  way  of  escape  ;  he  saw  that,  and  submitted. 

Finding  himself  in  this  situation,  he  made  friends 
as  best  he  could  with  his  companions,  and  their 
eccentricities  began  to  interest  him. 

In  the  mean  time  the  other  side  was  not  idle. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OLLY  BORNE  saw  her  mistress's  distress, 
and  whispered  in  her  ear  insidiously. 
At  this   whisper   Lady  Bussit's   eyes 
flashed  fire,  then  she  became  preternaturally  calm, 
and  sent  for  the  Curate. 

Now,  when  a  woman  so  gentle  as  Lady  Bussit  be- 
comes preternaturally  calm,  and  sends  for  a  Curate, 
it  means  something. 

The  curate,  Mr.  Banjo,  came  and  had  an  inter- 
view with  Slyboots,  the  Family  Solicitor. 

Slyboots  was  of  opinion,  five  times,  that  nothing 
could  be  done.  This  amounted,  ultimately,  to  one 
pound  thirteen  and  fourpence,  besides  expenses  in 
coming  down  from   London. 

The  Curate  left  Slyboots  in  the  dining-room,  where 
he  continued  giving  his  opinion  to  the  cold  chicken, 
tongue,  and  viands  on  the  table  from  mere  force  of 
habit,  and  putting  it  down  at  six  and  eightpence, 
every  time,  in  his  pocket-book. 


2  6  TREA  SURE-  TRO  I'E. 

Lady  Bussit  thanked  Mr.  Banjo,  the  Curate,  for 
his  prompt  attention  to  her  summons. 

Mr.  Banjo  blushed  and  clasped  his  hands. 

"  I  would  do  anything  fof*you.  *  *  *  Lady  Bussit," 
he  said,  and  sat  down,  nervously,  on  a  workbox, 
among  the  needles,  by  accident. 

Lady  Bussit  was  too  much  absorbed  to  notice  the 
young  man's  agitation. 

"  Let  us  come  to  the  point,"  she  said. 

"  I  have,"  murmured  Mr.  Banjo,  removing  the  last 
and  sharpest  needle. 

Then  they  sat  opposite  one  another,  and  fixed 
their  eyes  sadly  on  the  carpet. 

"  Slyboots  is  too  slow,  too  timid,"  said  Mr.  Banjo  ; 
"  /  would  art,  and  at  once." 

"  How  ? " 

"  We  require  a  man  of  superhuman  genius."  Mr. 
Banjo  blushed  as  he  said,  this,  slightly  turned  to  the 
right,  then  he'went  on.  "  We  require  a  man  of  unbound- 
ed energy," — he  blushed  again,  and  turned  slightly 
to  the  left — "  a  man,  handsome  as  Apollo,  strong  as 
Hercules,  clever  as  Minerva,  with  the  will  of  Jove, 
and  the  pluck  of  Mars."  His  face  was  suffused 
with  blushes. 

Lady  Bussit  caught  some  of  his  enthusiasm. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  27 

"  You  are  describing  Yourself,  "  she  exclaimed,  her 
whole  face  beaming  with  admiration  of  the  athletic 
form  before  her. 

"  Not  so,"  returned  the  Curate,  gently  ;  "  I  spoke 
of  another ;  though,"  he  added,  diffidently, "  I  felt  at 
the  moment  you  would  recognize  the  portrait  in  me. 
It  was  natural,"  and  once  more  he  blushed,  this  time 
deeply. 

"  Then  where  is  there  such  a  person  ?  " 

"  I  know." 

"  Who  ? " 

"  He  is  a  Writer,  an  Author,  of  whose  stupendous 
genius  there  are  no  two  opinions,*  even  among  his 
enemies,  for  enemies  he  has  ;  no  truly  great  man  can 
exist  without  making  them.  Everybody  is  raving 
about  him,  everywhere.  His  friends  rank  him  next 
after  Homer,  and  far  above  Shakspeare.  Even  his 
enemies  are  forced  to  admit  him  to  an  equal  pedestal 
with  our  greatest  Dramatic  Poet.     He  never  writes 

*The  character  which  the  Curate  here  describes,  and  which  will  shortly 
b«  before  my  readers  in  these  pages,  is  no  fictitious  one,  but  a  portrait, 
a  speaking  likeness,  of  the  writer  of  this  novel.  Vandyck  drew  a  full 
length  of  himself,  so  did  Rubsns,  so  Salvator  Rosa  and  Raphael,  Quen- 
tin  Matsys  carved  himself  in  iron  on  the  top  of  a  pump ;  and  not  to 
multiply  instances,  an  eminent  novelist  has,  in  our  own  time,  given  an 
admirable  sketch  of  himself ;  so  why  should  not  The  Author  of  this 
Novel* 


28  TREASURE-TROVE. 

but  to  defend  the  cause  of  the  weak  and  helpless. 
His  works  teem  with  all  the  Christian  virtues.  The 
number  of  people  that  have  been  converted  by  mere- 
ly reading  the  titles  on  the  covers  of  his  books, 
would  alone  form  a  small  London  Directory.  He  is 
thoroughly  in  earnest.  There  is  his  secret  ;  and  be- 
ing so,  has  already  contrived  to  get  several  people 
both  into  and  out  of,  the  Zoological  Gardens." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     Let  us  go  to  him." 

"  I  will  write,  and  make  an  appointment  with  him." 

"  Do.     A  writer  ?     What  does  he  write  ?  " 

"  Everything." 

After  an  instant's  thought  she  replied,  "  Indeed  ! 
Then  I  am  acquainted  with  many  of  his  works." 

The  Curate  sailed  over  the  carpet  like  an  antelope, 
and  approached  his  lips  to  her  ear.  He  whispered, 
"  He  writes  for  P—neh." 

At  the  mention  of  this  name  a  thrill  of  ecstatic  plea- 
sure ran  through  her  frame.  Then,  recovering  herself 
wtih  a  strong  effort,  she  exclaimed,  joyfully,  "  Do  not 
delay  an  instant.     He  is  evidently  the  friend  we  need." 

Mr.  Banjo  went  into  the  study,  and  dispatched 
his  note  to  Mr.  Juff,  the  celebrated  Author.  Then 
Mr.  Banjo  came  down  again,  looking  flushed  and 
handsome.     Then  he  blushed. 


CHAPTER  VIII.* 

EXT  morning  in  came  Mr.  Banjo.    Glow- 
ing with   health    and    high   spirits,  the 
Athlete  crashed  through  the  conservatory 
window,  and  stood  before  Lady  Bussit.     "  Coo !  " 
said  the  gentle  Curate.     Whereat  Lady  Bussit  raised 
her  head,  and  listened. 
"  Shall  I  read  you  Juff 's  letter  ? "  he  asked. 
"You  shall." 

"'Dear  Sir, — The  case  of  a  gentleman  confined  in 
the  Zoological  Gardens  among  the  bears,  by  an  interest- 
ed relative,  is  a  first-rate  notion,  and  looks  like  truth. 
There  is  matter  in  it  for  a  novel,  a  drama,  a  poem, 
ultimately  a  burlesque,  and  at  Christmas  time  a  pan- 
tomime. Let  the  lady  call  on  me  in  person.  Perhaps 
I  can  get  her  an  engagement  hi  London,  or  the  provinces, 

*  "  The  length  of  this  chapter  is  exceptional,  but  so  is  its  subject.  I 
have  attempted  to  portray  the  author  of  this  novel — myself.  It  has  been 
a  delicate  task,  but  I  think  I  have  succeeded." — Extract  from  Author's 
iMter  to  the  Editor. 


30  TREA  SURE-TRO  VE. 

where,  by  the  way,  she  might  "star"  in  a  play  of  mine 
on  this  very  subject.  At  home  every  day,  and  to 
special  visitors  at  any  hour,  if  you  touch  the  little  ivory 
knob  on  the  right  side  of  my  door,  one  foot  from  the 
step.  As  for  you,  I  know  you.  You  pulled  Aro.  6  in 
the  University  Fours  at  Henley,  and  took  a  threepenny 
'bus,  instead  of  a  cab,  from  the  Marble  Arch  to  the 
Haymarket,  to  save  nincpence.  See  "  Ride  Journal" 
April  I,  cited  in  my  "  Joke  Book,"  same  date,  and  also 
in  my "  Indices  Subjicientes  Spectacula,  Comadias,  et 
Ludicra,"  under  «  B  "  for  "  Banjo." 

"  '  Yours  very  heartily, 

<< «  juff:  " 

"  And  did  you  ?  " 

"Did  I  what?" 

"  Save  ninepence  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  noble  and  how  bold  you  are  !  " 

Banjo  blushed  all  over.  It  took  him  exactly  three 
minutes  to  do  this,  and  unblush  again. 

Then  he  resumed  : — 

"You'll  call  on  Mr.  Juff."  She  hesitated,  and  he 
continued.  "  He  won't  come  down  here.  A  marvel- 
lously popular  writer,  like  Juff,  is  spoiled  by  the 
ladies.     They  won't  let  him  alone.     They  pet  him, 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  31 

play  with  him,  write  to  him,  dance  round  him,  in 
crowds,  all  day  long.  So  you  can't  expect  Him  to 
come  down  here  on  a  stranger's  business." 

Lady  Bussit  decided  to  go,  took  her  maid,  Molly 
Borne,  with  her,  and  travelling  by  the  Unlimited 
Express  from  Bussit  Station,  was  at  Mr.  Juff's  door 
by  half-past  exactly. 

It  was  a  magnificent  house  in  the  finest  quarter  of 
Belgravia. 

Its  site  had  been  formerly  a  square,  but  had  been 
purchased  (out  of  the  receipts  from  one  of  his  papers 
in  P-ncti),  by  Mr.  Juff,  whose  quick  eye  had  at  once 
seized  upon  its  capabilities. 

Chestnuts,  oaks,  Scotch  firs,  and  the  African  pine, 
so  rarely  seen  in  the  metropolis,  stood  between  the 
busy  thoroughfare  and  Mr.  Juff's  front  door. 

There  were  two  entrance  lodges,  which  were  gems 
of  the  best  architectural  design,  and  the  drive  was 
divided  from  the  pathway  by  a  narrow  but  clear 
running  stream,  whereon  a  gondola  was  in  waiting 
to  convey  such  visitors  as  might  prefer  this  mode  of 
arriving  at  the  house. 

Lady  Bussit  could  not  conceal  her  admiration  and 
wonder  at  all  she  saw.  She  had  been  reared  in  the 
idea  that  authors  lived  on  airy  flights,  in  Bohemia, 


3a  rREASCTRh-lAUP*.. 

not  Belgravia,  and  this  palace — for  it  was  no  less 
— astonished  her. 

At  first  she  thought  she  must  have  made  a  mis- 
take ;  but  the  name  "  Juff  "  over  the  lodges,  on  the 
gate-pillars,  on  the  gravel  of  the  tramway,  on  the 
tesselated  pavement  (where  it  was  inlaid  with  costly 
stones),  and  on  the  prow  and  flag  of  the  gondola,  at 
once  dissipated  any  such  idea. 

A  slave,  black  as  ebony,  suddenly  stood  before 
her,  and  facing  round,  led  the  way  to  the  Italian  por 
tico. 

At  the  front  door  she  called  to  mind  Mr.  Juff's 
own  instructions,  and  pointed  to  the  small  ivory 
knob. 

The  negro  pressed  it  lightly.  He  then  respect- 
fully salaamed  and,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  disappeared. 

There  was  no  time  allowed  Lady  Bussit  for  spec- 
ulation on  this  new  wonder,  for  the  hall-door,  mov- 
ing noiselessly,  and  apparently  of  its  own  accord, 
stood  open  before  her. 

She  summoned  up  all  her  resolution,  repeating  to 
herself  several  times,  "  Charles, — Husband, — Zoo- 
logical Gardens." 

"  Mew  I?"  she    asked   timidly  of   nobody.     She 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  33 

was  standing  on  a  door  mat  of  the  purest  Circassian 
tresses,  prepared  after  some  occult  receipt. 

Silence  assents.  There  was  no  answer.  She 
advanced  a  step,  and  the  hall  door  closed. 

So  noiselessly  was  this  done,  and  so  admirably 
did  the  door  fit  into  the  wall,  that  neither  sound  nor 
seam  could  show  her  where  she  had  entered. 

The  hall  was  of  Basilica  pattern,  lighted  round 
the  dome  by  some  thousands  of  rose-colored  lanterns 
which,  entirely  hidden  from  sight,  shed  warm  and 
cheering  bloom  upon  the  interior.  Frescoes  by  the 
greatest  masters  of  the  Italian  school,  rendered  the 
dome  glorious  and  illustrated  the  chief  events  of 
Mr.  Juff's  career. 

Accustomed  to  the  grandest  houses,  Lady  Bussit 
was  utterly  overwhelmed  by  these  simple,  but  artistic 
effects. 

Then  it  struck  her  that  it  was  either  all  a  dream, 
or  that  she  had  gone  into  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  by 
mistake. 

"  Well,  I  NEVER  ! !  "  exclaimed  Molly. 

This  observation  recalled  Lady  Bussit  to  herself. 

She   now    became    aware    of    a   fragrant    aromatic 

breeze  pervading  the  Hall.     This  seemed  to  refresh 

her,   and  she   approached   the  fountain  which  was 

3 


34  TREASURE-TROVE. 

musically  splashing  in  the  centre.  This  was  so 
contrived  that  every  single  drop  of  water  from  the 
jet  fell  upon  a  peculiarly-fashioned  stone,  and  gave 
forth  such  varied  sounds  as  produced  a  harmony, 
the  like  of  which  Lady  Bussit  had  never  heard. 

In  the  centre  of  the  fountain  now  appeared  a 
lovely  maiden  habited  like  a  Naiad,  who,  presenting 
an  oyster  shell  made  of  rare  Indian  pearl  enshrined 
in  gold,  chased  by  Benvenuto  Cellini,  bade  Lady 
Bussit  note  her  name  and  business  upon  it  with  an 
electric  pencil.  She  thought  a  few  lines,  which  were 
suddenly  reproduced  in  writing  on  the  shell,  which 
she  forthwith  returned  to  the  maiden,  who  instantly 
disappeared,  while  soft  music  penetrated  the  air. 
Turning  her  head  towards  the  quarter  whence  these 
sounds  came,  she  perceived  a  beautiful  Indian  girl 
motioning  her  to  follow. 

She  did  so.  Not  a  sound  of  London  could  be 
beard.  Not  the  roll  of  an  omnibus,  not  the  rattle  of 
a  cab,  not  the  footfall  of  a  policeman.  Yet,  this  was 
Belgravia. 

At  the  maid's  touch  two  huge  glass  doors  flew 
open.  These  disclosed  a  Tropical  grove.  Man- 
goes, cocoa-nuts,  oranges,  hung  in  clusters.  Birds  of 
the  brightest  plumage    and    most  enchanting  song 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATICV.  35 

fluttered  hither  and  thither,  cooling  the  air  by  the 
fan-like  motion  of  their  gorgeous  wings. 

Parrots  had  built  in  the  sycamores,  and  were 
teaching  their  young  to  speak  such  words  ^s  they 
themselves  had  learnt. 

They  had  one  or  two  varieties  of  cry.  The  sounds 
that  Lady  Bussit  caught  were  "Juff,"  " The  G^eat 
Juff,"  "  Juff's  at  home."    So  she  passed  on. 

More  glass  doors,  which  opening,  showed,  as  '< 
were,  the  Depths  of  the  Ocean. 

Here  fish  disported  themselves,  and  Lady  Lussi 
and  her  maid  walked  on  a  carpet  of  the  finest  sand 
through    stalactite    caves,  cool    crystal    grots,    and 
beneath  arches  of  flowering  seaweed  trees. 

Then  they  were  ushered  into  a  Hall  of  more  than- 
Peruvian  splendour. 

Masterpieces  of  painting  and  sculpture  surround- 
ed her.  A  soft  clear  light  was  diffused  through  the 
apartment.  Mirrors  dexterously  let  into  the  walls 
reflected,  noiselessly,  the  outside  world,  and  pictured 
as  it  were,  the  most  beautiful  spots  in  the  London 
Parks,  showing  how  adroitly  the  Designer  had  fixed 
the  site  of  his  residence. 

So  far  all  was  romantic :  but  in  a  corner,  beneath 
a  palm  tree,  stood  a  writing  table,  and  over  various 


36  TREASURE-  TRO  VE. 

doors,  which  Lady  Bussit  now  noticed  for  the  first 
time,  were  written  "  Tragedies,"  "  Comedies,"  "  Nov- 
els," "  Romances,"  "  Burlesques,"  "  Magazines,"  and 
other  inscriptions,  which  she  could  not  at  once  un- 
derstand. 

By  the  writing  table  were  huge  baskets  of  gold, 
silver  and  iron.  These  were  labelled,  severally, 
Jokes,  Good  Things,  Repartees,  Impromptus,  Plots, 
Puns,  Used,  Unused. 

For  Mr.  Juff  was  not  one  of  those  writers  who  trust 
to  the  Inspiration  of  the  Moment  for  success.  He 
held  that  a  good  thing,  once  said,  no  matter  by  whom, 
ought  never  to  be  thrown  away  and  lost,  but  cata- 
logued and  classed  for  reference,  so  as  to  be  found 
when  wanted. 

Lady  Bussit  had  barely  time  to  form  some  idea  of 
The  Stupendous  Genius  which  had  done  all  this, 
when  a  bevy  of  laughing  damsels,  pelting  with  choice 
flowers  some  object  at  present  hidden  from  her 
sight,  entered  the  room. 

"  Our  game  is  over,"  said  a  sweet  voice,  apparent- 
ly from  the  Rosery  whence  the  girls  had  issued. 
"  Go  to  your  ices.     We  will  meet  anon." 

The  ladies  wandered  away  in  various  directions : 
and  were  soon  lost  to  sight  and  hearing. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  37 

Then  The  Author,  who  had  been  enjoying  a 
moment's  recreation,  approached  the  open  window. 

He  was  tall,  classically  handsome,  and  wore  a 
suit  of  bright  orange  velvet  turned  up  with  blue  \  his 
mauve  shirt,  made  of  a  material  unknown  in  this 
country,  was  fastened  at  the  throat  by  one  magnifi- 
cent diamond.  His  delicately  chiselled  hands 
peeped  out,  small  and  white,  from  the  ruffles  of  the 
real  point  lace  with  which  his  wristbands  were 
trimmed. 

His  shoes  were  of  a  rich  crimson,  which  afford- 
ed an  admirable  setting  for  the  amethysts,  rubies,  and 
smaller  diamonds  with  which  they  were  bespangled. 

He  was  smoking  a  delicately-perfumed  cigarette, 
and  playing  a  mandoline,  as  he  entered  the  room 
and  stood  before  them. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


il  ADY  BUSSIT  was  agitated. 


Mr.  Juff  saw  this  at  once,  and  touched  a 
spring  in  the  wall.  Thence  issued  a  small 
silver  salver,  bearing  an  ancient  beaker.  He  touched 
another  spring  just  above.  Thence  flowed  out  a 
liquid  bright  and  sparkling.  .  With  this  he  filled  the 
beaker,  and  handed  it  to  Lady  Bussit? 

"May  I  ?"  she  inquired,  faintly. 

"  Certainly.  It  will  not  hurt  you.  It  is  simply 
Allsopina.  If  it  was  Bass  I  should  say  something 
about  Basso  profondo. 

Saying  this  he  turned  to  one  of  his  buckets,  then 
to  a  large  ledger,  and  made  a  formal  entry  under  the 
letter  B.  The  book  was  labelled  "  Good  things  to 
say."  He  then  referred  to  a  quarto  index,  which  was 
standing,  open,  on  a  gothic  brazen  eagle  near  the 
writing-table.  In  this  he  made  a  private  mark,  for 
reference,  also  under  letter  B ;  and  this  being  done, 
he  turned  to  attend  to  his  visitor. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  ^ 

Then  she  told  him  all. 

Mr  Juff  appeared  to  be  thinking  intently. 

The  result  was  soon  apparent. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  he  inquired, 

She  glanced  at  her  maid. 

Mr.  Juff  was  on  the  alert  in  an  instant,  and  spiing- 
ing  from  his  chair,  placed  himself,  at  one  bound,  be- 
tween them. 

"  Now  then,"  he  cried,  "  No  larks  :  I  want  the 
truth."     Then  he  repeated,  "  How  are  you  ? " 

Lady  Bussit  paused.  Reflecting,  however,  that 
she  could  gain  nothing  by  concealment,  she  replied, 
"  Pretty  well,  thank  you  ;  how  are  you  ? " 

Mr.  Juff  thus  challenged,  begged  a  moment's  delay. 
Then  he  put  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  drew 
forth  a  pair  of  shining  bones.  On  these  he  perform- 
ed several  sonatas.  After  he  had  finished,  this 
strange  romantic  creature  danced  a  saraband,  and 
then  pushing  forward  from  a  corner  a  small  rostrum 
made  of  cedar  wood  inlaid  with  gold  and  ivory,  he 
mounted  it,  and  addressed  them. 

"  Lady  Bussit  and  Maid,  your  husband  is  locked 
up  in  the  Zoological  Gardens.  From  what  I  have 
heard,  I  gather  that  loss  of  hair  has  affected  his  brain. 
He  has  become  light-headed.     Robert  Bussit  thinks 


4o  TRE  A  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

this  an  opportunity  for  confining  his  cousin,  and 
putting  him  under  lock  and  key."  He  reflected  for 
an  instant,  and  then  descending,  rushed  to  his  folio 
labelled  "  Jokes,"  wherein  he  made  a  note  under  the 
letter  H,  "  Hair.  .  .  Locks  .  .  .  double  meaning." 
Then  he  wrote  a  reference  in  his  index.  After  this  he 
resumed  his  position. 

"  This  misfortune  has  reacted  upon  you.  I  have 
eyes  and  see  it.  The  question  simply  is,  Do  you 
want  luxuriant  //air,  whiskers  and  mustachios  ? 
Don't  be  alarmed.  You  sha'n't  be  like  Julia  Pastrana, 
a  very  amiable  young  lady  with  whom  I  have  the 
pleasure  to  be  acquainted."  Here  he  kissed  the 
tips  of  his  fingers,  and  then  continued.  "No;  you 
shall  not  even  be  compelled  to  dye."  Here  he 
dashed  down  again,  and  made  another  couple  of  en- 
tries under  the  letter  "  D — Die — Dye  " — for  future 
use,  while  Lady  Bussit  watched  him  with  anxious 
interest.  Gradually  she  came  to  respect  his  manli- 
ness, his  courtesy,  and  to  admire  and  understand 
his  brilliant  genius.  He  went  on,  "  We  will  bide  our 
time.  In  a  week  you  will  be  ready  to  act.  So  will 
Sir  Charles,  to  whom  you  shall  convey  a  receipt  with 
which  I  will  furnish  you." 

"  How  great !  how  clever  you  are  !  " 


A    TREBLE   TEMPTATION.  41 

"  I  am.  But,  as  the  French  say,  cela  va  sans  dire. 
Let  us  fix  our  attention  on  the  one  point.  Leave  all 
to  me.  When  you  feel  that  the  moment  has  come, 
merely  drop  me  a  line,  saying  '  Hair  you  ready  I  If 
so  go  a-head?  I  shall  then  act.  By  the  way,  what  is 
the  name  of  the  man  who  feeds  the  bears  at  three 
o'clock  ? " 

Lady  Bussit  thought  for  an  instant.  Then  she 
replied,  "  Smith." 

Mr.  Juff  turned  to  his  index,  and  under  the  letter 
"  S  "  found  the  name  required. 

"  Good,"  he  said,  "  he  comes  of  an  old  French 
family.  Now  listen  to  me.  I  know  how  to  deal 
with  Smith.  Smith  is  a  snob.  Go  to  the  Zoological 
in  State.  Outriders,  trumpets,  flags,  you  under- 
stand." 

"  I  do.     I've  got  them  all." 

Juff  bounded  into  the  air  with  a  loud  cry,  "  Eureka ! 
Hooray  !  Bravo  !  My !  Here  we  are  again  !  How 
are  you  to-morrow!  See  what  I've  found!"  he 
shouted,  like  an  elephant  in  an  ecstasy. 

Lady  Bussit  clasped  her  hands  with  joy.  Electric 
fire  coursed  through  her  veins.  She  caught  his 
enthusiasm.  So  did  Molly.  With  a  wild  triumphant 
roar   they  all   three    sprang   from    their   seats,  and 


42  TREASURE-TROVE. 

joining  hands,  bounded  about  the  room.  Guns 
went  off  in  the  ante-room,  and  jubilant  music  on 
hidden  organs  pealed  forth  a  victorious  chorus. 

Then  they  cooled  down,  and  Mr.  Juff  stamping 
his  foot,  the  floor  opened,  and  therefrom  arose  an 
elegantly-served  table,  bearing  upon  its  marble  top, 
gooseberries  stuffed  with  cream,  and  iced  flounders. 
He  made  both  mistress  and  maid  drink  a  bottle 
of  Pommery  &  Greno's  driest  champagne  each. 

Then  he  wrote  the  receipt  to  be  given  to  Sir 
Charles.     Then  he  wished  them  good-day. 

After  this  he  measured  three  paces,  carefully, 
backwards.  Then  running  six  forward,  he  stretched 
out  his  hands,  and  with  a  tremendous  impetus, 
jumped  through  a  small  square  window  in  the  wall, 
about  six  feet  from  the  floor.  On  his  disappearance 
the  window  was  immediately  covered  with  a  large 
flap  on  which  was  printed  Not  at  Home.  Taking 
the  hint,  they  withdrew. 

As  Lady  Bussit  passed  into  the  street  she  heard 
behind  her  a  tremendous  bang,  and  then  a  roar 
which  startled  her. 

It  was  Mr.  Juff  letting  off  a  pun  and  laughing  at 
it  himself,  for  he  was  hard  at  work  on  a  pantomime 
for  Christinas,  and  their  visit  had  disturbed  him. 
Now  he  was  returning  to  his  toil. 


t 


CHAPTER  X. 

ADY  BUS  SIT,  acting  upon  instructions, 
appeared  before  the  gate  of  the  Zoological 
Gardens  with  outriders  dressed  in  scarlet 
and  pink.  They  had  white  hats  turned 
up  with  blue,  and  yellow  boots.  A  dozen  running 
footmen  accompanied  the  carriage,  dressed  as 
Tritons,  and  blowing  conchs. 

All  this  was  not  without  its  effect  on  Smith. 
On  the  pretence  of  asking  him   at  what  time  the 
bears  were  fed,  she   slipped  a  thousand-pound  note 
into  his  hand,  and  a  letter  for  Sir  Charles. 

This  was  duly  delivered.  Juff's  receipt  she  put 
inside  a  bun,  and  threw  it  over  the  railings.  Sir 
Charles  seized  it  and  devoured  its  contents.     Then 

■ 

he  nodded,  passed  his  finger  over  his  bald  head 
thoughtfully,  jotted  something  on  the  letter,  and 
replacing  it  in  the  bun  threw  it  playfully  up  to  Lady 
Bussit.  Thenceforward  he  was  cheerful  and  resign- 
ed.    The  bears  amused  him  with  their  absurdities. 


44  TREASURE-TROVE. 

They  were  all  mad.  One  bear  thought  he  was  on  the 
Stock  Exchange,  and  showed  Sir  Charles  a  plan  for 
rigging  the  market.  The  plan  was  marked  method- 
ically, A,  B,  C,  D,  etc.,  and  the  poor  animal  imag- 
ined himself  a  bear  of  Consols. 

Sir  Charles  saw  at  once  that  he  would  never  get 
out. 

But  from  their  conversation  he  learnt  something 
which  was  ultimately  of  signal  service  to  him. 

They  confided  to  him  their  secret  griefs. 

One,  a  she-bear,  informed  him  that  she  would  not 
have  been  there  but  for  the  wickedness  of  a  barber 
in  the  city,  who  loved  her,  though  she  hated  him, 
and  who  had  paid  Smith  to  fatten  her  up,  and  if  he 
could  not  possess  her  alive,  he  would,  by  Smith's 
help,  obtain  her  hand,  and  herself  entirely,  when 
dead. 

Sir  Charles  passed  his  hand  over  his  hairless 
scalp,  and  meditated. 

Five  clays  later  the  she-bear  was  removed.  Smith 
informed  Sir  Charles  of  her  destination.  And  now 
he  was  really  anxious  for  his  delivery. 

Juff,  too,  wondered  at  the  delay. 

At  last  there  came  a  note.  "  Hair  you  ready  ?  Go 
a-h'.ad!  "     Then  Juff  went  to  work. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  45 

He  called  on  a  manager  of  a  metropolitan  theatre. 

The  manager  had  just  got  together,  with  some 
trouble,  a  "  double  company  "  for  Mr.  Juff's  forth- 
coming pantomime. 

He  also  took  the  precaution  of  securing  five  large 
pantomime  heads  with  various  expressions  of  coun- 
tenance. To  wear  these,  he  engaged  four  artists  ac- 
customed to  this  sort  of  work. 

The  fifth  mask  they  carried. 

Thus  armed,  Juff  went  to  the  Zoological. 

The  men  with  the  large  heads,  being  taken  for 
distinguished  foreigners,  were  received  by  the  author- 
ities, who  showed  them  over  the  gardens  with  the 
greatest  possible  respect. 

This  drew  the  officials  and  the  visitors  away  from 
the  bears'-den. 

Smith  and  another  keeper  came  out  to  feed  the 
bears. 

The  second  keeper  wheeled  a  barrow  before  him 
in  which  was  the  bears'  meat. 

At  a  signal  from  Juff,  the  first  clown  and  panta- 
loon engaged  Smith  in  an  animated  conversation. 

Obeying  another  sign,  the  second  pair  of  panto, 
mimists  stopped  the  barrow,  and  commenced  tasting 
and  bargaining  for  the  meat. 


46  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

From  Smith's  pocket,  Clown  number  one  extracted 
the  keys. 

The  man,  missing  these,  turned  upon  him. 

Then  the  clown,  with  the  utmost  politeness,  pro- 
tested, on  his  honor,  with  his  hand  at  his  heart, 
that  he  could  not  be  guilty  of  such  a  fraud,  and 
pointed  to  his  companion,  who  had  already  run  away, 
as  the  culprit.  The  keeper  strode  off  in  search  of 
the  latter. 

In  the  mean  time  similar  manoeuvres  had  been  ex- 
ecuted by  the  other  artistes,  and  the  under-keeper 
was  in  full  chase  of  the  second  pantaloon,  who  he 
supposed,  had  filched  several  pounds  weight  of  the 
fattest  meat. 

The  first  clown  handed  the  keys  to  Mr.  Juff. 

Then  the  two  drolls  engaged  themselves  upon  a 
work  of  marvellous  cunning. 

They  divided  the  fat  purloined  from  the  barrow, 
and  with  two  lumps  of  this  stuff,  they  scrubbed  the 
walks  of  the  Gardens,  as  if  they  were  housemaids, 
cleaning  a  floor. 

In  the  mean  time,  Juff  had  descended,  opened  the 
cage,  released  Sir  Charles,  placed  the  spare  large 
head  on  his  shoulders,  and  thus   disguised,  he  led 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  47 

him  by  the  grass  borders,  and,  avoiding  the  paths,  to 
the  gate. 

So  far  all  was  satisfactory. 

But  the  alarm  had  been  given. 

Smith  and  the  other  keeper,  finding  themselves 
deceived,  shouted  out  to  the  officials,  who  attempted 
to  secure  their  larga-headed  visitors.     This  led  to  a 


scrimmage. 


The  clowns  and  pantaloons  threw  about  everything 
they  could  find. 

The  police  outside,  hearing  the  noise,  rushed  in, 
and  would  have  joined  the  affray,  but  for  the  precau- 
tions taken  by  the  two  clowns,  who  had  rendered  the 
walks  so  slippery  with  lard,  that  no  one  was  able  to 
stand  upright  for  one  second. 

Then  followed  a  scene  of  indescribable  confusion, 
taking  advantage  of  which,  Juff  and  Sir  Charles  drove 
off,  safely,  in  a  cab. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Lady  Bussit  held  him,  panting, 
shouting  and  dancing,  in  her  arms. 

It  was  a  pretty  picture. 

Then  Juff  went  home  to  work. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ADY  BUSSIT  was  the  first  to  speak. 
"  May  I  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  may,"  was  his  reply. 

Then  she  produced  first  of  all  Juff's 
receipt  and  the  note  added  by  Sir  Charles. 

She  accounted  for  her  delay  by  showing  that  the 
Perruquicr  to  whom  she  had  applied  could  not  have 
performed  his  work  quicker  under  the  circumstances. 
It  was  to  be  a  temporary  arrangement. 
Juff's  receipt  had  simply  said, 
"  Measure  round  the  head  in  manner  of  a  fillet,  clas- 
sically" 

"From  the  forehead  over  to  the  poll,  elect ioneeringly." 
"  From  one  temple  to  the  other,  religiously" 
"  Write  result  down  in  inches.      Your  wife  will  ap- 
ply it  to  a  photograph,  and  the  thing  is  done." 

It  was  the  answer  to   this   that  Sir  Charles  had 
written. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  49 

"Here  is  the  photograph,"  said  Lady  Bussit, 
"with  your  own  measurement  applied." 

She  showed  it  him.  A  skilfully  executed  likeness, 
taken  in  his  baldest  time,  before  his  whiskers  disap- 
peared. 

"  And  here,"  she  continued,  producing  a  magnifi- 
cent false  head  of  hair,  "  is  the  result." 

A  loud  cry  of  delight  escaped  from  her  husband, 
as  he  gently  fitted  the  perruque  on  his  marble-like 
head. 

Lady  Bussit  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  You  won't 
mind  Robert's  beard  and  mustache  now?" 

"  Not  I.  " 

"  You  will  never  have  another  fit." 

"  I  never  wish  for  a  better  one  than  this." 

So  they  sat  together  murmuring  in  each  other's 
ears. 

Then  Lady  Bussit  plucked  up  courage,  and  showed 
him  her  magnificent  chignon. 

"  Let  us  be  grateful  to  Heaven,"  said  Sir  Charles. 
That  night  they  rested  happily. 

Sir  Charles  rose  at  dawn.  He  was  for  driving 
over  to  Tuppennie  Bussit  in  triumph. 

Horses,  flags,  drums,  trumpets,  and  two  troops  of 

his  own  raising,  with  colors. 

4 


5o  TREASURE-TRO  VE. 

On  their  road,  Sir  Charles,  remembering  the 
address  to  which  the  she-bear  had  been  carried, 
drove  a  little  out  of  his  way,  and  called  there. 

It  was  a  Barber's  shop.  Over  the  door  was  an 
announcement  to  the  effect  that  a  large  bear  had  just 
been  slaughtered,  and  that  the  grease  was  invaluable. 

Sir  Charles's  servants  returned  laden  with  three 
dozen  pots  of  the  "  Capillary  Confection."  This 
was  the  title  given  to  the  pomade  by  the  barber, 
who  had  invented  it  himself. 

Robert,  from  the  Tower  of  Teazer,  saw  the  happy 
pair  drive  into  the  village. 

Young  farmers  were  out  cantering  about.  Old 
peasants  in  their  carts.  Children  on  donkeys. 
Peasants  from  the  plough.  All  shouting  together  in 
their  joy  at  the  return  of  their  kind  landlord  and  his 
loving  wife,  and  unable  to  restrain  their  admiration 
of  Sir  Charles's  glossy  locks,  flowing  beard,  and 
brown  mustache. 

Before  they  reached  the  village  four  hundred 
horsemen  accompanied  the  carriage,  while  at  least 
four  hundred  more,  unaccustomed  to  the  saddle, 
were  on  their  backs  in  the  dust. 

The  church-bells  rang ;  everybody  cheered  ;  and 
seventy-five  pensioners,  whose  united  ages  amounted 


A  TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  51 

>  six  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty  years,  sang  a 
horus  of  one  hour  and  a  half's  duration,  by  the 
Church  clock,  which  played  the  accompaniment. 

At  this  Lady  Bussit  began  to  cry :  Sir  Charles 
bowed  right  and  left,  taking  off  his  wig  to  the  people 
with  great  delight  and  pride.  It  was  a  Royal 
Progress. 

Molly  Borne,  seated  on  the  back  seat  of  the  car- 
riage, threw  her  boots  in  the  air  for  luck. 

A  roar  of  cheers  burst  from  the  crowd  at  that  in- 
spired action  of  a  woman  whose  face  and  eyes  seem- 
ed to  be  on  fire.  Lady  Bussit  turned  pale,  but  a 
skilful  movement  of  her  head  avoided  the  second 
boot.     Then  they  all  stood  up  and  shouted. 

It  was  open  house  that  night  to  every  one. 

Paupers  from  the  workhouse  came  into  Tuppennie 
Bussit  Hall,  and  slept  wherever  they  liked,  only  re- 
questing to  have  their  shoes  well  polished  and  bright 
early,  and  a  cup  of  chocolate  half  an  hour  before 
they  got  up  in  the  morning. 

Farmers  played  the  piano,  and  their  elders  danced 
in  the  drawing-room.  Others  spent  the  night  in  the 
wine-cellars.  No  man  or  woman  was  denied.  Oxen 
were  roasted  whole  in  every  room  in  the  house,  kegs 


52  TREASURE-TROVE. 

were  broached,  and  ale,  cider,  port,  sherry,  and 
champagne  flowed  down  the  stairs  in  rich,  frothy 
streams.  It  was  open  house  that  night  to  all  as  it 
had  been  four  hundred  years  ago. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OBERT  BUSSIT  was  served  with  a  Decla- 
ration and  a  Writ.    It  was  in  three  counts 
in  their  shortest  and  most  simple  form  : — 
i  st.    That   the  said    Robert  Bussit  of 

,  in  the  county  of  ,  on  the day  of , 

in  the  year  of ,  did,  of  his  own  malice  afore- 
thought, and  all  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding, 
molest,  annoy,  and  evict,  vi  et  armis,  from  statutable 
and  possessory  rights  the  plaintiff  in  this  action,  and 
that  the  aforesaid  Robert  Bussit  did,  on  the  same 

day  as  aforesaid,  that  is,  on  the day  of ,  in 

the  year  of ,  cause  the  plaintiff  as  aforesaid  to  be 

seized  and  removed  against  his  will  and  consent  to 
a  place  set  apart  by  law  for  the  legal  retention  of 
such  Quadrupeds,  Bipeds,  and  others  not  being  force 
naturce  or  lusus  natures,  in  the  Park  of  the  Regent  in 
the  County  of  Middlesex. 

2d.     That  the  said  Robert    Bussit  (etc.,  etc.,   as 
before)  did  (much   the   same    as   mentioned   in  the 


54  TREASURE-TROVE. 

above  count)  .  .  .  and  in  consequence  of  such  act 
or  acts  done  and  executed  of  malice  aforethought  as 
aforesaid,  the  plaintiff,  Sir  Charles  Bussit,  of  Tupen- 

nie  Bussit,  in  the  county  of ,  on  the  day  of , 

m  the  year  of ,  does  claim  and  cause  to  be  claim- 

ed  all  that  part,  portion,  and  inalienable  right  of 
quod  ei  deforceal,  such  right  not  being  barred  by  the 
usurpation  of  the  incorporeal  hereditament  whereof 
as  aforesaid  the  afore-mentioned  Robert,  etc.,  etc. 

3d  Count.  And  that  (all  re-stated  as  above  at 
full  length)  the  plaintiff'  thereupon  claims  £36,000  for 

damnum  et  injuria,  and  hereby  on  the  day  of ,  etc., 

etc. 

Robert  Bussit  sold  his  house,  pulled  down  the 
Tower  of  Teazer,  and  paid  the  money.  It  was  a 
sickener  ;  it  broke  his  spirit. 

Defeated  at  every  point,  Robert  fell  into  a  deep 
•  dejection,  and  took  to  tumbling  for  a  livelihood. 
He  and  his  wife  and  child  hired  themselves  out  as 
"  Signor  Bussittini  and  Talented  family."  They 
practised  standing  on  their  heads  for  hours  every 
day.  One  thing  was  clear  :  they  would  never  again 
alight  on  their  legs. 

His  father-in-law  once  took  tickets  for  his  benefit. 
This  was  all  they  had  to  live  upon. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  55 

He  applied  to  Mr.  Juff  for  an  equestrian  drama. 
Mr.  Juff  wrote  it.     This  crushed  him  utterly. 

He  travelled  about  the  country  with  it  for  some 
time  ;  then  he  travelled  about  without  it. 

Much  journeying  brought  him  in  contact  with  all 
sorts  of  people,  for  whom  he  had  but  one  question, 
"  Do  you  know  my  cousin,  Lady  Bussit  ? " 

Persons  to  whom  this  query  was  put,  thought  it 
was  a  conundrum,  and  gave  it  up. 

Then  he  hated  everybody  worse  than  ever. 

One  day  he  heard  the  bells  of  some  church  ringing. 

"  What's  that  for  ?  "  he  asked,  sharply. 

"  Young  Bussit,"  answered  the  man. 

Robert  took  up  a  log  of  wood,  and  rushed  at  him. 
"  I'll  teach  you,"  he  cried,  "  to  ring  bells." 

The  man  ducked,  and  ran  out. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

UR  story  now  makes  a  bold  jump. 
Everybody  is  twenty  years  older. 
Sir    Charles     Bussit    has    one    son ; 
Robert  one  daughter. 
Robert  is  once  more  residing  at  Bussit,  in  a  small 
cottage.     He  hates  his  cousin  worse  than  ever. 

One  day  Mr.  Banjo,  now  the  Perpetual  Curate  of 
Tuppennie  Bussit,  came  to  Sir  Charles  to  complain. 
"  There  was,"  he  said,  "  a  middle-aged  person, 
in  fact  a  female,  preaching  in  the  village  ;  and  as 
she  preached  better  than  he  did,  nobody  came  to 
hear  him" 

Sir  Charles  decided  to  judge  for  himself.     Being 
a  Magistrate,  he  was  legally  entitled  to  do  so. 

A  large   crowd  was  gathered  round  the  woman, 
who  was  perched  on  a  tub. 

He  recognized  her  at  once — La  Dorchester. 
She  spoke  briefly,  but  forcibly. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  57 

She  lashed  Drunkenness,  and  then  took  another 
subject  in  hand,  Quarrels  in  families. 

"  Look  here,"  she  exclaimed,  "  why  do  you  quar- 
rel ?  Birds  in  their  little  nests  agree,  and  'tis  a  shame- 
ful sight,"  {murmurs  from  the  crowd?)  "  When  chil- 
dren of  one  family  "  {more  murmurs)  "  fall  out,  and 
scratch  and  fight."  ("So  be  it/"  from  the  crowd.) 
"What's  that?  Watts.  Well  now,  is  that  true? 
("JVo/"  heartily  from  the  crowd.)  "  You  know  better 
than  that."  ("  We  do  I "  from  crowd?)  "  Very  well, 
then.  If  you  know  better,  do  better."  ("  We>  will, 
we  will  I "  from  crowd?)  "  Set  an  example  to  Sir 
Charles  "  ("  Hooray  !  "  from  crowd?)  "  and  Robert." 
(" 'Yah /"  from  crowd?)  Teach 'em  that  their  little 
hands  were  never  made  to  tear,  and  bite,  and  fight  ? 
Ask  them,  How  are  you  to-morrow  ?"  ("Ah  /"  from 
Sir  Charles  and  the  crowd?)  "  Ask  'em,  How  they'd 
like  it  themselves  ? "  ("  Ah  I "  from  Robert  and  the 
erowd?)  "  Oh  !  my  friends,  be  assured  that  I'm  right, 
and  everybody  else  is  wrong."  ("  You  are  I  you  are  I") 
"  Why  do  you  beat  your  carpets  ?  Why  give  more  ?  " 
(Sobs.)  "  Many  to  whom  this  question  is  put  will 
reply,  I  can  read,  write,  but  I  cannot  speak  it." 
("  Yes, yes/")  "  Oh,  my  Christian  friends,  the  Christy 
Minstrels  never  perform  out  of  London,  and   none 


58  TREASURE-TROVE. 

other  is  genuine  unless  signed  with  the  trade  mark." 
{Convulsions  in  crowd,  and  several  people  led  away 
howling?)  "  What  matters  it,  after  all,  if  we  can  only 
strike  on  the  box  ?  Let  us  act  up  to  it !  More !  Let 
us  double  up  our  perambulators,  and  moisten  the 
starch  of  Glenfield  with  the  soothing  syrup  of  the 
maternal  Winslow ;  then  while  we  Bantingize  in  a 
daylight  of  Ozone,  we  can  indeed  aspire  to  the  glori- 
ous light  of  the  Ozokerit !  !  "     . 

The  fair  orator  delivered  these  words  with  such 
fire,  such  feeling,  such  clarion-like  eloquence,  that 
from  the  people,  at  first  spell-bound,  there  arose  so 
loud,  so  heartfelt  a  cry  of  grateful  joy  as  is  seldom 
heard  from  the  lips  of  those  who  are  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  themselves,  in  their  glossy  hats  and  shiny 
boots,  on  Sunday  afternoons. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

HE  Preacher  had  vanished.     But  the  fire 
of  her  words  remained,  and  moved  statues. 
The  Cousins  quivered 

Then  Robert  spoke.     "  Chawles  .  .  .  .  " 

Sir  Charles  lifted  his  head  loftily,  but  there  was  a 
tear  in  his  right  eye,  unwiped. 

Robert  continued,  behind  his  hat,  "  Chawles 
....  I  have  been  wrong.  I  am  sorry  we  are 
enemies.     Good-morning." 

Then  Sir  Charles's  Boy  ran  out,  and  Robert's 
Daughter  rushed  into  his  arms. 

Thus  the  Children's  love  wore  out  their  father's 
hate. 


La  Dorchester  meeting  Molly  Borne  in  the  lane, 
called  upon  her  to  repent. 
"  Never  1 "  answered  Molly. 


60  TREASURE-TROVE. 

And  she  never  did ;  not  having,  as  she  said,  any- 
thing to  repent  of. 


Robert  Bussit  one  evening  said  to  Sniffkin,  "  Old 
boy,  never  hate  anybody." 

Sniffkin  bowed  coldly.  He  didn't  like  being 
called  "  old  boy,"  and  never  spoke  to  Robert  again. 


Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Bussit  lead  a  peaceful  life. 
They  both  wear  their  own  hair  now,  and  it  is  quite 
gray. 

Their  son  and  his  wife  often  come  to  dinner,  and 
have  excellent  appetites.  After  the  meal,  Juff,  who 
has  made  the  house  one  of  his  homes,  reads  them 
his  plays,  and  sings  little  compositions  of  his  own 
to  them,  playing  on  the  mandoline.  In  consequence, 
they  go  to  bed  early. 


You,  Gentlemen  and  Ladies,  who  read  this,  be 
firm,  and  if  you've  done  anything  wrong,  don't  be 
misled  by  this  novel  into  doing  it  again. 


A   TREBLE  TEMPTATION.  61 

Be  kind,  be  generous,  buy  Juff's  books,  and  read 
Juff's  writings. 

When  in  doubt,  ask  Juff. 

Never  consult  a  Solicitor, — go  to  Juff. 

My  experience  is,  that  we're,  all  of  us,  generally 
very  nice  sort  of  people,  except  the  nasty  ones. 

So  let  us  end  with  a  couplet  of  one  of  England's 
greatest  writers : 

"  Where  is  the  man  of  truest  stuff— 
The  Best,  the  Greatest     .  .  It  is  JUFF." 


APPENDIX. 

From  the  Editor  *  to  the  Author  of  "  A  Treble  Temp- 
tation." 
My  deak  Old  Juffy, —  Your  Novel  is  excellent. 
Of  course  I  congratulate  you  upon  its  admirable  finish. 
Permit  me  to  ask  you,  in  consequence  of  various  inquiries 
on  the  subject,  addressed  to  me  in  my  editorial  capacity, 
why  is  it  called  "  A  Treble  Temptation  ?  " 

/remain,  my  dear  old  Juffy,  yours  most  Affectionately, 

The  Editor. 

From   Mr.  J.,  Author  of  6rc,   &*c,   to  the  Editor 
of  P. 

Dear  Sir, — May  not  a  father  christen  his  own 
child  as  he  will?  I  choose  to  call  this  Novel  "  A  Treble 
Temptation^     Don't  call  me  "  Old  Juffy" 

Yours,  decidedly. 

*  The  Editor  of  P-nck,  to  which  journal,  as  has  been  already  stated 
in  this  novel,  Mr.  Juff  was  a  constant  contributor.  The  Treble  Temp- 
tation first  appeared  in  P-nch. 


64  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

From  the  Editor  /(5  Mr  J. 

My  dear   Juff, — I  do  not  dispute  your  right  to 
christen  your  own  charming  Novel.     But  how  does  the 

title  apply  f 

I  remain,  yours,  dear  Juff,  affectionately, 

The  Editor. 

From  Mr.  J.  to  the  Editor. 

Sir  —  I  can't  be  CEdipus  and  Sphinx.      It  is  a 
Treble  Temptation,  and  the  best  Novel  Eve  ever  done. 

Yours, 

J- 

From  the  Editor  to  Mr.  J. 

Dear  Mr.  Juff — You  are  perfectly  at  liberty  to 
hold  your  own  opinion  as  to  the  merits  of  the  Novel  in 
question.  I  shall  not  discuss  that  point  with  you.  I 
confess  I  do  not  see  what  the  temptation  was,  or  why  it 
was  treble.  Permit  me  to  add  that  I  am  not  alone  in 
my  failure  of  perception. 

I  remain,  Sir,  yours  sincerely, 

The  Editor. 


APPENDIX.  6$ 

From  Mr.  J.  to  the  Editor. 

Sir — Quod  scripsi  scripsi.  What  I  have  scribbled  I 
have  scribbled.  I  am  answerable  to  no  man.  Certain- 
ly not  to  you.  You  have  been  a  dramatic  author,  and 
probably  are  acquainted  with  French.  If  so,  mark  my 
reply  to  your  question,  "  Peche  et  Cherche  I 

J- 

From  the  Editor  of  P.  to  Mr.  J. 

Sir — You  are,  I  regret  to  say,  begging  the  question, 
while  I  am  begging  the  answer.  The  point  at  issue  be- 
tween yourself  and  the  public,  which  I  now  editorially 
represent,  is  the  exact  application  of  the  title,  "  Treble 
Temptation,'"  bestowed  by  you  upon  your  Novel,  Tale,  or 
whatever  the  work  may  be  out  of  your  own  estimation. 
Oblige  me  tvith  a  satisfactory  answer.  Should  you  fail 
to  comply  with  my  request,  I  shall  certainly  publish  the 
correspondence. 

Yours,  &C,  &>c. 

From  Mr.  J.  ic  the  Editor. 

Publish  what  you  like.  The  na?ne  of  the  Novel  is 
"  The  Treble  Temptation." 

J- 


66  TREASURE-TROVE. 

[The  Editor  owes  it  to  himself  and  the  public,  to 
inform  them    that,  after  some    search,  he   has   dis- 
covered that  the  trebkness  of  the  Temptation  must 
be  looked  for  in  the  three  reasons  for  Robert's  ha- 
tred of  his  cousin  Charles.     These  will  be  found  in 
the  First  Chapter.     Our  readers  may  perhaps  have 
formed    some  other   conclusion  ;  but  at   all   events 
they  will  agree  with  the  one  at  which  Mr.  Juff  has 
arrived,  namely,  the  conclusion  of  his  novel.     And 
here  let  the  Editor  explain,  that,  in  his  first  letter  to 
he  author,  he  congratulated  him  "  upon  its  admira- 
>le  finish."  This  expression  might  be  taken  as  ap- 
plicable to  the  style  :  it   is  not   to  be    so  taken. — 

Ed.  P.] 

F.  C.  BURNAND. 


GEORGE    DE   BARNWELL. 


By  Sir  E.  L.  B.  L.,  Bart 
VOL.    I. 


N  the  Morning  of  Life  the  Truthful  wooed 
the  Beautiful,  and  their  offspring  was 
Love.  Like  his  Divine  parents.  He  is 
eternal.  He  has  his  Mother's  ravishing  smile ;  his 
Father's  steadfast  eyes.  He  rises  every  day,  fresh 
and  glorious  as  the  untired  Sun-God.  He  is  Eros, 
the  ever  young.  Dark,  dark  were  this  world  of  ours 
had  either  Divinity  left  it — dark  without  the  day- 
beams  of  the  Latonian  Charioteer,  darker  yet  with- 
out the  daedal  Smile  of  the  God  of  the  Other  Bow ! 
Dost  know  him,  reader  ? 

Old  is  he,  Eros,  the  ever  young.  He  and  Time 
were  children  together.  Chronos  shall  die,  too ; 
but  Love  is  imperishable.  Brightest  of  the  Divinities, 
where   hast  thou  not  been  sung  ?     Other  worships 


68  TREASURE-TROVE. 

pass  away  ;  the  idols  for  whom  pyramids  were  raised 
lie  in  the  desert  crumbling  and  almost  nameless  , 
the  Olympians  are  fled,  their  fanes'  no  longer  rise 
among  the  quivering  olive-groves  of  Ilissus,  or  crown 
the  emerald-islets  of  the  amethyst  ^Egean  !  These 
are  gone,  but  thou  remainest.  There  is  still  a  garland 
for  thy  temple,  a  heifer  for  thy  stone.  A  heifer? 
Ah,  many  a  darker  sacrifice.  Other  blood  is  shed 
at  thy  altars,  Remorseless  One,  and  the  Poet  Priest 
who  ministers  at  thy  Shrine  draws  his  auguries  from 
the  bleeding  hearts  of  men  ! 

While  Love  hath  no  end,  can  the  Bard  ever  cease 
singing  ?  In  Kingly  and  Heroic  ages,  'twas  of  Kings 
and  Heroes  that  the  Poet  spake.  ■  But  in  these,  our 
times,  the  Artisan  hath  his  voice  as  well  as  the  Mon- 
arch. The  people  To-day  is  King,  and  we  chronicle 
his  woes,  as  They  of  old  did  the  sacrifice  of  the 
princely  Iphigenia,  or  the  fate  of  the  crowned  Aga- 
memnon. 

Is  Odysseus  less  august  in  his  rags  than  in  his 
purple  ?  Fate,  Passion,  Mystery,  the  Victim,  the 
Avenger,  the  Hate  that  harms,  the  Furies  that  tear, 
the  Love  that  bleeds,  are  not  these  with  us  Still  ? 
are  not  these  still  the  weapons  of  the  Artist?  the 
colors  of  his  palette  ?  the  chords  of  his  lyre  ?     Listen  I 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  .    69 

I  tell  thee  a  tale — not  of  Kings — but  of  Men — not 
of  Thrones,  but  of  Love,  and  Grief,  and  •Crime. 
Listen,  and  but  once  more.  'Tis  for  the  last  time 
(probably)  these  fingers  shall  sweep  the  strings. 

E.  L.  B.  L. 

NOONDAY  IN  CHEPE. 

'Twas  noonday  in  Chepe.  High  Tide  in  the 
mighty  River  City  ! — its  banks  well-nigh  overflowing 
with  the  myriad-waved  Stream  of  Man  !  The  top- 
pling wains,  bearing  the  produce  of  a  thousand  marts  ; 
the  gilded  equipage  of  the  Millionary  ;  the  humbler, 
but  yet  larger  vehicle  from  the  green  metropolitan  sub- 
urbs (the  Hanging  Gardens  of  our  Babylon),  in  which 
every  traveller  might,  for  a  modest  remuneration, 
take  a  republican  seat ;  the  mercenary  caroche,  with 
its  private  freight ;  the  brisk  curricle  of  the  letter- 
carrier,  robed  in  royal  scarlet :  these  and  a  thousand 
others  were  laboring  and  pressing  onward,  and  locked 
and  bound  and  hustling  together  in  the  narrow  chan- 
nel of  Chepe.  The  imprecations  of  the  charioteers 
were  terrible.  From  the  noble's  broidered  hammer- 
cloth,  or  the  driving-seat  of  the  common  coach,  each 
driver  assailed  the  other  with  floods  of  ribald  satire 
The  pavid  matron  with  the  one  vehicle  (speeding  to 


7o 


TREASURE-TRO  VE. 


the  Bank  for  her  semestrial  pittance)  shrieked  and 
trembled  ;  the  angry  Dives  hastening  to  his  office 
(to  add  another  thousand  to  his  heap),  thrust  his 
head  over  the  blazoned  panels,  and  displayed  an 
eloquence  of  objurgation  which  his  very  Menials 
could  not  equal ;  the  dauntless  street  urchins,  as 
they  gayly  threaded  the  Labyrinth  of  Life,  enjoyed 
the  perplexities  and  quarrels  of  the  scene,  and  ex- 
acerbated the  already  furious  combatants  by  their 
poignant  infantile  satire.  And  the  Philosopher,  as 
he  regarded  the  hot  strife  and  struggle  of  these  Can- 
didates in  the  race  for  Gold,  thought  with  a  sigh  of 
the  Truthful  and  the  Beautiful,  and  walked  on 
melancholy  and  serene. 

'Twas  noon  in  Chepe.  The  warerooms  were 
thronged.  The  flaunting  windows  of  the  mercers 
attracted  many  a  purchaser  :  the  glittering  panes 
behind  which  Birmingham  had  glazed  its  simulated 
silver,  induced  rustics  to  pause  :  although  only  noon, 
the  savory  odors  of  the  Cook  Shops  tempted  the 
over-hungry  citizen  to  the  bun  of  Bath,  or  to  the 
flagrant  pottage  that  mocks  the  turtle's  flavor — the 
turtle!  O  dapibus  s up remi  grata  testudo  Jovis  1  I 
am  an  Alderman  when  I  think  of  thee !  Well :  it 
was  noon  in  Chepe. 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  71 

But  were  all  battling  for  gain  there  ?  Among  the 
many  brilliant  shops  whose  casements  shone  upon 
Chepe,  there  stood  one  a  century  back  (about  which 
period  our  tale  opens)  devoted  to  the  sale  of  Colonial 
produce.  A  rudely  carved  image  of  a  negro,  with 
a  fantastic  plume  and  apron  of  variegated  feathers, 
decorated  the  lintel.  The  East  and  West  had  sent 
their  contributions  to  replenish  the  window. 

The  poor  slave  had  toiled,  died  perhaps,  to  pro- 
duce yon  pyramid  of  swarthy  sugar  marked  "  Only 
£>\d." — That  catty  box,  on  which  was  the  epigraph 
"  Strong  Family  Congo  only  3-$-.  9^/.,"  was  from  the 
country  of  Confutzee — that  heap  of  dark  produce 
bore  the  legend  "  TRY  OUR  REAL  NUT  "— 'Twas 
Cocoa — and  that  nut  the  Cocoa-nut,  whose  milk  has 
refreshed  the  traveller  and  perplexed  the  natural 
philosopher.  The  shop  in  question  was,  in  a  word, 
a  Grocer's.  V 

In  the  midst  of  the  shop  and  its  gorgeous  contents 
sat  one,  who,  to  judge  from  his  appearance  (though 
'twas  a  difficult  task,  as,  in  sooth,  his  back  was  turned), 
had  just  reached  that  happy  period  of  life  when  the 
Boy  is  expanding  into  the  Man.  O  Youth,  Youth  ! 
Happy  and  Beautiful  !  O  fresh  and  roseate  dawn 
of  life  ;  when  the  dew  yet  lies  on  the   flowers,  ere 


j  2  TREA  SURE-TRO  VE. 

they  have  been  scorched  and  withered  by  Passion's 
fiery  Sun  !  Immersed  in  thought  or  study,  and  in- 
different to  the  din  around  him,  sat  the  boy.  A 
careless  guardian  was  he  of  the  treasures  confided 
to  him.  The  crowd  passed  in  Chepe  ;  he  never 
marked  it.  The  sun  shone  on  Chepe  j  he  only  asked 
that  it  should  illumine  the  page  he  read.  The  knave 
might  filch  his  treasures  ;  he  was  heedless  of  the 
knave.  The  customer  might  enter ;  but  his  book 
was  all  in  all  to  him. 

And  indeed  a  customer  was  there  ;  a  little  hand 
was  tapping  on  the  counter  with  a  pretty  impatience  ; 
a  pair  of  arch  eyes  were  gazing  at  the  boy,  admiring, 
perhaps,  his  manly  proportions  through  the  homely 
and  tightened  garments  he  wore. 

"  Ahem  !  sir  !  I  say  young  man  !  "  the  customer 
exclaimed. 

';  Ton  d '  apameibomenos  proseplie,"  read  on  the  stu- 
dent, his  voice  choked  with  emotion.  "What  lan- 
guage !  "  he  said  ;  "  how  rich,  how  noble,  how  sonor- 
ous !    prosephe  podas  " — 

The  customer  burst  out  in  a  fit  of  laughter  so  shrill 
and  cheery,  that  the  young  Student  could  not  but 
turn  round,  and  blushing,  for  the  first  time  remark- 
ed her,  "A  pretty  grocer's  boy  you  are,"  she  cried, 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  73 

"with  your  applepiebomenos  and  your  French  and 
lingo.     Am  I  to  be  kept  waiting  for  hever  !  " 

"  Pardon,  fair  Maiden,"  said  with  high-bred  cour- 
tesy ;  "  'twas  not  French  I  read,  'twas  the  Godlike 
language  of  the  blind  old  bard.  In  what  can  I  be 
serviceable  to  ye,  lady  ?  "  and  to  spring  from  his 
desk,  to  smooth  his  apron,  to  stand  before  her  the 
obedient  Shop  Boy,  the  Poet  no  more,  was  the  work 
of  a  moment. 

"  I  might  haved  prigged  this  box  of  figs,"  the 
damsel  said  good-naturedly,  "and you'd  never  turned 
round. 

"  They  came  from  the  country  of  Hector,"  the  boy 
said.  "Would  you  have  currants,  lady?  These 
once  bloomed  in  the  island  gardens  of  the  blue 
^Egean.  They  are  uncommon  fine  ones,  and  the 
figure  is  low  ;  they're  fourpence-halfpenny  a  pound. 
Would  ye  mayhap  make  trial  of  our  teas  ?  We 
do  not  advertise,  as  some  folks  do  :  but  sell  as 
low  as  any  other  house." 

"  You're  precious  young  to  have  all  these  good 
things,"  the  girl  exclaimed,  not  unwilling,  seemingly, 
to  prolong  the  conversation.  "  If  I  was  you,  and 
stood  behind  the  counter,  I  should  be  eating  figs  the 
whole  day  long." 


7  4  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

"  Time  was,"  answered  the  lad,  "and  not  long  since, 
I  thought  so  too.  I  thought  I  never  should  be  tired 
of  figs.  But  my  old  uncle  bade  me  take  my  fill, 
and  now  in  sooth  I  am  aweary  of  them." 

"  I  think  you  gentlemen  are  always  so,"  the  coquette 
said. 

"  Nay,  say  not  so,  fair  stranger !  "  the  youth  re- 
plied, his  face  kindling  as  he  spoke,  and  his  eagle  eyes 
flashing  fire.  "  Figs  pall ;  but  oh !  the  Beautiful 
never  does.  Figs  rot ;  but  oh  !  the  truthful  is  Eternal. 
I  was  born,  lady,  to  grapple  with  the  Lofty  and  the 
Ideal.  My  soul  yearns  for  the  Visionary.  I  stand 
behind  the  counter,  it  is  true  ;  but  I  ponder  here 
upon  the  deeds  of  heroes,  and  muse  over  the  thoughts 
of  sages.  What  is  grocery  for  one  who  has  ambition  ? 
What  sweetness  has  Muscovado  to  him  who  hath 
tasted  of  Poesy?  The  Ideal,  lady,  I  often  think,  is 
the  true  Real,  and  the  Actual  but  a  visionary 
hallucination.  But  pardon  me  ;  with  what  may  I 
serve  thee  ?  " 

"  I  came  only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust,"  the 
girl  said,  with  a  faltering  voice  ;  "  but  oh,  I  should 
like  to  hear  you  speak  on  forever  !  " 

Only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust  ?  Girl,  thou 
earnest    for  oilier    things!   Thou    lovedst    his  voice? 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL. 


75 


Siren  !  what  was  the  witchery  of  thine  own  ?  He 
deftly  made  up  the  packet,  and  placed  it  in  the 
little  hand.  She  paid  for  her  small  purchase,  and 
with  a  farewell  glance  of  her  lustrous  eyes,  she  left 
him.  She  passed  slowly  through  the  portals,  and  in 
a  moment  more  was  lost  in  the  crowd.  It  was  noon 
in  Chepe.     And  George  de  Barnwell  was  alone. 


VOT,.  II. 


E  have  selected  the  following  episodical 
chapter  in  preference  to  anything  relating 
JH§j  to  the  mere  story  of  George  de  Barnwell, 
with  which  most  readers  are  familiar. 

Up  to  this  passage  (extracted  from  the  beginning 
of  Vol.  II.)  the  tale  is  briefly  thus  : 

The  rogue  of  a  Millwood  has  come  back  every 
day  to  the  grocer's  shop  in  Chepe,wanting  some  sugar 
or  some  nutmeg,  or  some  figs,  half  a  dozen  times  in 
the  week. 

She  and  George  de  Barnwell  have  vowed  to  each 
other  an  eternal  attachment. 

This  flame  acts  violently  upon  George.  His 
bosom  swells  with  ambition.  His  genius  breaks  out 
prodigiously.  He  talks  about  the  Good,  the  Beauti- 
ful, the  Ideal,  etc.,  in  and  out  of  all  season,  and  is 
virtuous  and  eloquent  almost  beyond  belief — in  fact 
like  Devereux  or  P.  Clifford,  or  E.   Aram,  Esquires. 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  77 

Inspired  by  Millwood  and  love,  George  robs  the 
till,  and  mingles  in  the  world  which  he  is  destined  to 
ornament.  He  outdoes  all  the  dandies,  all  the  wits,  all 
the  scholars,  and  all  the  voluptuaries  of  the  age — an 
definite  period  of  time  between  Queen  Anne  and 
George  II. — dines  with  Curll  at  St.  John's  Gate, 
pinks  Colonel  Charteris  in  a  duel  behind  Montague 
House,  is  initiated  into  the  intrigues  of  the  Cheva- 
lier St.  George,  whom  he  entertains  at  his  sumptuous 
pavilion  at  Hampstead,  and  likewise  in  disguise  at 
the  shop  in  Cheapside. 

His  uncle,  the  owner  of  the  shop,  a  surly  curmud- 
geon with  very  little  taste  for  the  True  and  Beau- 
tiful, has  retired  from  business  to  the  pastoral  village 
in  Cambridgeshire  from  which  the  noble  Barnwell 
came.  George's  cousin  Annabel  is,  of  course,  con- 
sumed with  a  secret  passion  for  him. 

Some  trifling  inaccuracies  ■  may  be  remarked  in 
the  ensuing  brilliant  little  chapter;  but  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  author  wished  to  present  an 
age  at  a  glance  :  and  the  dialogue  is  quite  as  fine 
and  correct  as  that  in  the  "  Last  of  the  Barons,"  or 
in  "Eugene  Aram,"  or  other  works  of  our  author,  in 
which  Sentiment  and  History,  or  the  True  and  Beau- 
tiful, are  united. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

button's  in  pall  mall. 

'HOSE  who  frequent  the  dismal  and 
enormous  Mansions  of  Silence  which 
society  has  raised  to  Ennui  in  that 
Omphalos  of  town,  Pall  Mall,  and  which,  be- 
cause they  knock  you  down  with  their  dulness, 
are  called  Clubs  no  doubt ;  those  who  yawn  from 
a  bay-window  in  St.  James's  Street,  at  a  half- 
score  of  other  dandies  gasping  from  another  bay- 
window  over  the  way  ;  those  who  consult  a  dreary 
evening  paper  for  news,  or  satisfy  themselves  with 
the  jokes  of  the  miserable  "  Punch  "  by  way  of  wit ; 
the  men  about  town  of  the  present  day,  in  a  word, 
can  have  but  little  idea  of  London  some  six  or  eight 
score  years  back.  Thou  pudding-sided  old  dandy 
of  St.  James's  Street,  with  thy  lacquered  boots,  thy 
dyed  whiskers,  and  thy  suffocating  waistband,  what 
art  thou  to  thy  brilliant  predecessor  in  the  same 
quarter  ?     The  Brougham  from  which  thou  descend- 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  79 

est  at  the  portal  of  the  "  Carlton  "  or  the  "  Travel 
ler's,"  is  like  everybody  else's  ;thy  black  coat  has  no 
more  plaits,  nor  buttons,  nor  fancy  in  it  than  thy 
neighbor's  ;  thy  hat  was  made  on  the  very  block 
on  which  Lord  Addlepate's  was  cast,  who  has  just 
entered  the  Club  before  thee.  You  and  he  yawn  to- 
gether out  of  the  same  omnibus-box  every  night ; 
you  fancy  yourselves  men  of  pleasure  ;  you  fancy 
yourselves  men  of  fashion  ;  you  fancy  yourselves 
men  of  taste  ;  in  fancy,  in  taste,  in  opinion,  in  philos- 
ophy, the  newspaper  legislates  for  you  ;  it  is  there 
you  get  your  jokes  and  your  thoughts,  and  your  facts 
and  your  wisdom — poor  Pall  Mall  dullards.  Stupid 
slaves  of  the  press,  on  the  ground  which  you  at  pres- 
ent occupy,  there  were  men  of  wit  and  pleasure  and 
fashion,  some  five  and  twenty  lustres  ago. 

We  are  at  Button's — the  well-known  sign  of  the 
"Turk's  Head."  The  crowd  of  periwigged  heads  at 
the  windows — the  swearing  chairmen  round  the  steps 
(the  blazoned  and  coronalled  panels  of  whose  ve- 
hicles denote  the  lofty  rank  of  their  owners), — the 
thong  of  embroidered  beaux  entering  or  departing, 
and  rendering  the  air  fragrant  with  the  odors  of 
pulvillio  and  pomander,  proclaim  the  celebrated 
resort  of  London's  Wit  and  Fashion.     It  is  the  cor- 


80  TREASURE-TROVE. 

ner  of  Regent  Street.  Carlton  House  has  not  yet 
been  taken  down. 

A  stately  gentleman  in  crimson  velvet  and  gold  is 
sipping  chocolate  at  one  of  the  tables,  in  earnest 
converse  with  a  friend  whose  suit  is  likewise  em- 
broidered, but  stained  by  time,  or  wine  mayhap,  or 
wear.  A  little  deformed  gentleman  in  iron-gray  is 
reading  The  Morning  Chronicle  newspaper  by  the 
fire,  while  a  divine,  with  a  broad  brogue  and  a  shovel 
hat  and  cassock,  is  talking  freely  with  a  gentleman, 
whose  star  and  ribbon,  as  well  as  the  unmistakable 
beauty  of  his  Phidian  countenance,  proclaim  him  to 
be  a  member  of  Britain's  aristocracy. 

Two  ragged  youths,  the  one  tall,  gaunt,  clumsy, 
and  scrofulous,  the  other  with  a  wild,  careless, 
beautiful  look,  evidently  indicating  Race,  are  gaz- 
ing in  at  the  window,  not  merely  at  the  crowd  in 
the  celebrated  Club,  but  at  Timothy  the  waiter, 
who  is  removing  a  plate  of  that  exquisite  dish,  the 
muffin  (then  newly  invented),  at  the  desire  of  some 
of  the  revellers  within. 

"  I  would,  Sam,"  said  the  wild  youth  to  his  com- 
panion, "  that  I  had  some  of  my  mother  Maccles- 
field's gold,  to  enable  us  to  eat  of  those  cates  and 
mingle  with  yon  springalds  and  beaux." 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  81 

"  To  vaunt  a  knowledge  of  the  stoical  philosophy," 
said  the  youth  addressed  as  Sam,  "  might  elicit  a 
smile  of  incredulity  upon  the  cheek  of  the  parasite 
of  pleasure  ;  but  there  are  moments  in  life  when 
History  fortifies  endurance  ;  and  past  study  renders 
present  deprivation  more  bearable.  If  our  pecuni- 
ary resources  be  exiguous,  let  our  resolution,  Dick, 
supply  the  deficiencies  of  Fortune.  The  muffin  we 
desire  to-day  would  little  benefit  us  to-morrow. 
Poor  and  hungry  as  we  are,  are  we  less  happy,  Dick, 
than  yon  listless  voluptuary  who  banquets  on  the 
food  which  you  covet  ?  " 

And  the  two  lads  turned  away  up  Waterloo  Place, 
ind  pastthe  "  Parthenon  "  Club-house,  and  disappear- 
ed to  take    a   meal   of  cow-heel    at    a    neighboring 
look's  shop.     Their   names  were    Samuel  Johnson 
and  Richard  Savage. 

Meanwhile  Ihe  conversation  at  Button's  was  fast 
and  brilliant.  "  By  Wood's  thirteens,  and  the  div- 
vle  go  wid  'em,"  cried  the  Church  dignitary  in  the 
cassock,  "  is  it  in  blue  and  goold  ye  are  this  morning, 
Sir  Richard,  when  you  ought  to  be  in  seebles  ? " 

"  Who's    dead,   Dean  ? "  said  the  nobleman,  the 

dean's  companion. 

"  Faix    mee  Lard   Bolingbroke,   as  sure  as  mee 

6 


82  TREASURE-TROVE. 

name's  Jonathan  Swift  —  and  I'm  not  so  sure  of 
that  neither,  for  who  knows  his  father's  name?  — 
there's  been  a  mighty  cruel  murther  committed 
entirely.  A  child  of  Dick  Steele's  has  been  bar- 
barously slain,  dthrawn,  and  quarthered,  and  it's 
Joe  Addison  yondther  has  done  it.  Ye  should 
have  killed  one  of  your  own,  Joe,  ye  thief  of  the 
world." 

"  I ! "  said  the  amazed  and  Right  Honorable 
Joseph  Addison  ;  "  I  kill  Dick's  child  !  I  was  god- 
father to  the  last." 

"  And  promised  a  cup  and  never  sent  it,"  Dick 
ejaculated.     Joseph  looked  grave. 

"  The  child  I  mean  is  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley, 
Knight  and  Baronet.  What  made  ye  kill  him,  ye 
savage  Mohock  ?  The  whole  town  is  in  tears  about 
the  good  knight;  all  the  ladies  at  Church  this 
afternoon  were  in  mourning ;  all  the  booksellers  are 
wild ;  and  Lintot  says  not  a  third  of  the  copies  of 
'The  Spectator'  are  sold  since  the  death  of  the 
brave  old  gentleman.  And  the  Dean  of  St.  Patrck's 
pulled  out  "  The  Spectator  "  newspaper,  containing 
the  well-known  passage  regarding  Sir  Roger's  death. 
"  I  bought  it  but  now  in  '  Wellington  Street,' "  he  said  ; 
"  the  newsboys  were  howling  all  down  the  Strand." 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  83 

"  What  a  miracle  is  Genius — Genius,  the  Divine 
ind  Beautiful,"  said  a  gentleman  leaning  against  the 
same  fire-place  with  the  deformed  cavalier  in  iron- 
gray,  and  addressing  that  individual,  who  was  in 
fact  Mr.  Alexander  Pope.  "  What  a  marvellous  gift 
is  this,  and  royal  privilege  of  Art !  To  make  the 
Ideal  more  credible  than  the  Actual  :  to  enchain 
our  hearts,  to  command  our  hopes,  our  regrets,  our 
tears,  for  a  mere  brain-born  Emanation :  to  invest 
with  life  the  Incorporeal,  and  to  glamour  the  cloudy 
into  substance, — these  are  the  lofty  privileges  of 
the  Poet,  if  I  have  read  poesy  aright ;  and  I  am  as 
familiar  with  the  sounds  that  rang  from  Homer's 
lyre,  as  with  the  strains  which  celebrate  the  loss  of 
Belinda's  lovely  locks " — (Mr.  Pope  blushed  and 
bowed  highly  delighted)  —  "  these,  I  say,  are  the 
privileges  of  the  Poet — the  Poietes — the  Maker — 
he  moves  the  world,  and  asks  no  lever ;  if  he  cannot 
charm  death  into  life,  as  Orpheus  feigned  to  do,  he 
can  create  Beauty  out  of  Nought,  and  defy  Death 
by  rendering  Thought  Eternal.  Ho  !  Jemmy,  anoth- 
er flask  of  Nantz." 

And  the  boy  —  for  he  who  addressed  the  most 
brilliant  company  of  wits  in  Europe  was  little  more 
— emptied  the  contents  of  the   brandy-flask  into  a 


84  TREA  S  URE-  TRO  VE. 

silver  flagon,  and  quaffed  it  gayly  to  the  health  of 
the  company  assembled.  'Twas  the  third  he  had 
taken  during  the  sitting.  Presently,  and  with  a 
graceful  salute  to  the  Society,  he  quitted  the  coffee- 
house, and  was  seen  cantering  on  a  magnificent 
Arab  past  the  National  Gallery. 

"  Who  is  yon  spark  in  blue  and  silver  ?  He  beats 
Joe  Addison  himself,  in  drinking,  and  pious  Joe 
is  the  greatest  toper  in  the  three  kingdoms,"  Dick 
Steele  said,  good-naturedly. 

"  His  paper  in  the  '  Spectator '  beats  thy  best, 
Dick,  thou  sluggard,"  the  Right  Honorable  Mr. 
Addison  exclaimed.  "  He  is  the  author  of  that 
famous  No.  996,  for  which  you  have  all  been  giving 
me  the  credit." 

"  The  rascal  foiled  me  at  capping  verses,"  Dean 
Swift  said,  "  and  won  a  tenpenny  piece  of  me, 
plague  take  him  !  " 

"  He  has  suggested  an  emendation  in  my  '  Homer,' 
which  proves  him  a  delicate  scholar,"  Mr.  Pope  ex- 
claimed. 

"  He  knows  more  of  the  French  king  than  any 
man  I  ever  met  with  ;  and  we  must  have  an  eye 
upon  him,"  said  Lord  Bolingbroke,  then  Secretary 
of  State  for   Foreign  Affairs,  and,  beckoning  a  sus- 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  85 

picious-looking  person  who  was  drinking  at  a  side- 
table,  whispered  to  him  something. 

Meantime,  who  was  he  ?  where  was  he,  this  youth 
who  had  struck  all  the  wits  of  London  with  admira- 
tion ?  His  galloping  charger  had  returned  to  the 
City ;  his  splendid  court-suit  was  doffed  for  the 
citizen's  gaberdine  and  grocer's  humble  apron. 

George  de  Barnwell  was  in  Chepe — in  Chepe,  at 
the  feet  of  Martha  Millwood. 


VOL.  III. 

THE   CONDEMNED   CELL. 


UID  me  ?nol/il>!is  implicas  lacertis,  my 
Ellinor  ?  Nay,"  George  added  a  faint 
smile  illumining  his  wan  but  noble 
features,  "why  speak  to  thee  in  the  ac- 
cents of  the  Roman  poet,  which  thou  comprehendest 
not  ?  Bright  One,  there  be  other  things  in  Life,  in 
Nature,  this  Inscrutable  Labyrinth,  this  Heart  on 
which  thou  leanest,  which  are  equally  unintelligible 
to  thee  !  Yes,  my  pretty  one,  what  is  the  Unintelligi- 
ble but  the  Ideal  ?  what  is  the  Ideal  but  the  Beautiful  ? 
what  the  Beautiful  but  the  Eternal  ?  And  the  Spirit 
of  Man  that  would  commune  with  these  is  like  Him 
who  wanders  by  the  thin  poluphloiboio  thalasses, 
and  shrinks  awe-struck  before  that  Azure  Mystery." 
Emily's  eyes  filled  with  fresh-gushing  dew.  "Speak 
on,  speak  ever  thus,  my  George,"  she  exclaimed. 
Barnwell's  chains  rattled  as  the  confiding  girl  clung 
to  him.      Even  Snoggin,  the  Turnkey  appointed  to 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  87 

sit  with  the  prisoner,  was  affected  by  his  noble  and 
appropriate  language,  and  also  burst  into  tears. 

"  You  weep,  my  Snoggin,"  the  Boy  said  ;  "  and 
why?  Hath  Life  been  so  charming  to  me  that  I 
should  wish  to  retain  it  ?  Hath  Pleasure  no  after- 
Weariness  ?  Ambition  no  Deception ;  Wealth  no 
Care  ;  and  Glory  no  Mockery  ?  Psha  !  I  am  sick  of 
Success,  palled  of  Pleasure,  weary  of  Wine  and  Wit, 
and — nay,  start  not,  my  Adelaide — and  Woman.  I 
fling  away  all  these  things  as  the  Toys  of  Boyhood. 
Life  is  the  Soul's  Nursery.  I  am  a  man,  and  pine 
for  the  Illimitable  !  Mark  you  me  !  Has  the  Mor- 
row any  terrors  for  me,  think  ye  ?  Did  Socrates  fal- 
ter at  his  poison  ?  Did  Seneca  blench  in  his  bath  ? 
Did  Brutus  shirk  the  sword  when  his  great  stake 
was  lost  ?  Did  even  weak  Cleopatra  shrink  from  the 
Serpent's  fatal  nip.  And  why  should  I  ?  My  great 
Hazard  hath  been  played,  and  I  pay  my  forfeit.  Lie 
sheathed  in  my  heart,  thou  flashing  Blade  !  Welcome 
to  my  Bosom,  thou  faithful  Serpent ;  I  hug  thee, 
peace-bearing  Image  of  the  Eternal  ?  Ha,  the  hem- 
lock cup  !  Fill  high,  boy,  for  my  soul  is  thirsty  for 
the  Infinite!  Get  ready  the  bath,  friends  ■  prepare  me 
for  the  feast  To-morrow — bathe  my  limbs  in  odors, 
and  put  ointment  in  my  hair." 


88  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

"  Has  for  a  bath,"  Snoggin  interposed,  "  they'r 
not  to  be  'ad  in  this  ward  of  the  prison  ;  but  I  dussay 
Hemmy  will  get  you  a  little  hoil  for  your  'air." 

The  Prisoned  One  laughed  loud  and  merrily. 
"  My  guardian  understands  me  not,  pretty  one — and 
thou  ?  what  sayest  thou  ?  From  those  dear  lips  me- 
thinks  — plura  sunt  oscula  quam  sententicz — I  kiss 
away  thy  tears,  dove  ! — they  will  flow  apace  when  I 
am  gone,  then  they  will  dry,  and  presently  these  fair 
eyes  will  shine  on  another,  as  they  have  beamed  on 
poor  George  Barnwell.  Yet  wilt  thou  not  all  forget 
him,  sweet  one.  He  was  an  honest  fellow,  and  had 
a  kindly  heart  for  all  the  world  said  " — 

"  That,  that  he  had,"  cried  the  jailer  and  the  girl 
in  voices  gurgling  with  emotion.  And  you  who 
read  !  you  unconvicted  Convict  —  you  murderer, 
though  haply  you  have  slain  no  one — you  Felon  in 
posse  if  not  in  esse — deal  gently  with  one  who  has 
used  the  Opportunity  that  has  failed  thee — and  be- 
lieve that  the  Truthful  and  the  Beautiful  bloom 
sometimes  in  the  dock  and  the  convict's  tawny  Gaber- 
dine 1 


In  the  matter  for  which  he  suffered,  George  could 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  89 

never  be  brought  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  at  all 
in  the  wrong.  "  It  may  be  an  error  of  judgment," 
he  said  to  the  Venerable  Chaplain  of  the  jail,  "  but 
it  is  no  crime.  Were  it  Crime,  I  should  feel  Remorse. 
Where  there  is  no  remorse,  Crime  cannot  exist.  I 
am  not  sorry  :  therefore,  I  am  innocent.  Is  the 
proposition  a  fair  one  ? 

The  excellent  Doctor  admitted  that  it  was  not  to 
be  contested. 

"  And  wherefore,  sir,  should  I  have  sorrow,"  the 
Boy  resumed,  "for  ridding  the  world  of  a  sordid 
worm  ;  *  of  a  man  whose  very  soul  was  dross,  and 
who  never  had  a  feeling  for  the  Truthful  and  the 
Beautiful?  When  I  stood  before  my  uncle  in  the 
moonlight,  in  the  gardens  of  the  ancestral  halls  of 
the  De  Barnwells,  I  felt  that  it  was  the  Nemesis  come 
to  overthrow  him.  '  Dog,'  I  said  to  the  trembling 
slave,  '  tell  me  where  thy  Gold  is.     Thou  hast  no 


*  This  is  a  gross  plagiarism  :  the  above  sentiment  is  expressed  much 
more  eloquently  in  the  ingenious  romance  of  "  Eugene  Aram  : " — 
"  The  burning  desires  I  have  known — the  resplendent  visions  I  have 
nursed — the  sublime  aspirings  that  have  lifted  me  so  often  from  sense 
and  clay  :  these  tell  me,  that  whether  for  good  or  ill,  I  am  the  thing  of 
an  immortality,  and  the  creature  of  a  God.  ...  I  have  destroyed 
a  man  noxious  to  the  world  !  with  the  wealth  by  which  he  afflicted 
society,  I  have  been  the  means  of  blessing  many." 


9o  TREASURE-TRO  VE. 

use  for  it.  I  can  spend  it  in  relieving  the  Poverty 
on  which  thou  tramplest  ;  aiding  Science,  which 
thou  knowest  not ;  in  uplifting  Art,  to  which  thou 
art  blind.  Give  Gold,  and  thou  art  free.'  But  he 
spake  not,  and  I  slew  him." 

"  I  would  not  have  this  doctrine  vulgarly  promul- 
gated," said  the  admirable  chaplain,  "  for  its  general 
practice  might  chance  to  do  harm.  Thou,  my  son, 
the  Refined,  the  Gentle,  the  Loving  and  Beloved, 
the  Poet  and  Sage,  urged  by  what  I  cannot  but  think 
a  grievous  error,  hast  appeared  as  Avenger.  Think 
what  would  be  the  world's  condition,  were  men  with- 
out any  Yearning  after  the  Ideal  to  attempt  to  re- 
organize Society,  to  redistribute  Property,  to  avenge 
Wrong." 

"  A  rabble  of  pygmies  scaling  Heaven,"  said  the 
noble  though  misguided  young  Prisoner.  "  Prome- 
theus was  a  Giant,  and  he  fell." 

"Yes,  indeed,  my  brave  youth  !"  the  benevolent 
Dr.  Fuzwig  exclaimed,  clasping  the  Prisoner's  mar- 
ble and  manacled  hand  ;  "  and  the  Tragedy  of  To- 
morrow will  teach  the  World  that  Homicide  is  not  to 
be  permitted  even  to  the  most  amiable  Genius,  and 
that  the  lover  of  the  Ideal  and  the  Beautiful,  as  thou 
art,  my  son,  must  respect  the  Real  likewise." 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL. 


9i 


"  Look  !  here  is  supper !  "  cried  Barnwell  gayly. 
"  This  is  the  Real,  Doctor  ;  let  us  respect  it  and  fall 
to."  He  partook  of  the  meal  as  joyously  as  if  it  had 
been  one  of  his  early  festals  ;  but  the  worthy  chap- 
lain could  scarcely  eat  it  for  tears. 

WILLIAM  M.  THACKERAY. 


A  PROPHETIC  ACCOUNT  OF  A  GRAND 
NATURAL  EPIC  POEM,  TO  BE  ENTI- 
TLED "THE  WELLINGTONIAD,"  AND 
TO  BE  PUBLISHED  a.d.  2824.  (Novem- 
ber,  1824.) 

OW  I  became  a  prophet  it  is  not  very 
important  to  the  reader  to  know.  Nev- 
ertheless I  feel  all  the  anxiety  which, 
under  similar  circumstances,  troubled  the  sensi- 
tive mind  of  Sidrophel  ;  and,  like  him,  am  eager  to 
vindicate  myself  from  the  suspicion  of  having  prac- 
ticed forbidden  arts,  or  held  intercourse  with  beings 
of  another  world.  I  solemnly  declare,  therefore,  that 
I  never  saw  a  ghost,  like  Lord  Lyttleton  ;  consulted 
a  gipsy,  like  Josephine ;  or  heard  my  name  pronounced 
by  an  absent  person,  like  Dr.  Johnson.  Though  it  is 
now  almost  as  usual  for  gentlemen  to  appear  at  the 
moment  of  their  death  to  their  friends  as  to  call  on 
them  during  their  life,  none  of  my  acquaintance  have 
been  so  polite  as  to  pay  me  that  customary  attention 
I  have  derived  my  knowledge  neither  from  the  deav. 
nor  from  the  living  ;  neither  from  the  lines  of  a  hand, 


"THE    WELLINGTONIAD."  93 

nor  from  the  grounds  of  a  tea-cup  ;  neither  from  the 
stars  of  the  firmament,  nor  from  the  fiends  of  the  abyss. 
I  have  never,  like  the  Wesley  family,  heard  "that 
mighty  leading  angel,"  who  "  drew  after  him  the 
third  part  of  heaven's  sons,"  scratching  in  my  cup- 
board. I  have  never  been  enticed  to  sign  any  of 
those  delusive  bonds  which  have  been  the  ruin  of  so 
many  poor  creatures  ;  and,  having  always  been  an 
indifferent  horseman,  I  have  been  careful  not  to  ven- 
ture myself  on  a  broomstick. 

My  insight  into  futurity,  like  that  of  George  Fox  the 
Quaker,  and  that  of  our  great  and  philosophic  poet, 
Lord  Byron,  is  derived  from  simple  presentiment. 
This  is  a  far  less  artificial  process  than  those  which 
are  employed  by  some  others.  Yet  my  prediction 
will,  I  believe,  be  found  more  correct  then  theirs,  or 
at  all  events,  as  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite  says  in  the 
play,  "more  circumstantial." 

I  prophesy  then,  that  in  the  year  2824,  according 
to  our  present  reckoning,  a  grand  national  Epic  Poem, 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  Iliad,  the  ^neid,  or 
the  Jerusalem,  will  be  published  in  London. 

Men  naturally  take  an  interest  in  the  adventures 
of  every  eminent  writer.  I  will,  therefore,  gratify  the 
laudable    curiosity,   which,  on    this    occasion,    will 


94-  TREASURE-TROVE. 

doubtless  be  universal,  by  prefixing  to  my  account  of 
the  poem  a  concise  memoir  of  the  poet. 

Richard  Quongti  will  be  born  at  Westminster  on 
the  ist  of  July,  2786.  He  will  be  the  younger  son 
of  the  younger  branch  of  one  of  the  most  respectable 
families  in  England.  He  will  be  lineally  descended 
from  Quongti,  the  famous  Chinese  liberal,  who,  after 
the  failure  of  the  heroic  attempt  of  his  party  to  ob- 
tain a  constitution  from  the  Emperor  Fim  Fam,  will 
take  refuge  in  England,  in  the  twenty-third  century. 
Here  his  descendants  will  obtain  considerable  note ; 
and  one  branch  of  the  family  will  be  raised  to  the 
peerage. 

Richard,  however,  though  destined  to  exalt  his 
family  to  distinction  far  nobler  than  any  which  wealth 
or  titles  can  bestow,  will  be  born  to  a  very  scantv 
fortune.  He  will  display  in  his  early  youth  such 
striking  talents  as  will  attract  the  notice  of  Viscount 
Quongti,  his  third  cousin,  then  secretary  of  state  for 
the  Steam  Department.  At  the  expense  of  this  emi- 
nent nobleman,  he  will  be  sent  to  prosecute  his 
studies  at  the  university  of  Timbuctoo.  To  that 
illustrious  seat  of  muses  all  the  ingenuous  of  youth  of 
every  country  will  then  be  attracted  by  the  high 
scientific  character  of  Professor  Quashaboo,  and  the 


"THE    WELLINGTONIAD."  95 

eminent   literary  attainments   of   Professor   Kissey 
Kicky.      In  spite   of   this   formidable   competition, 
however,    Quongti   will    acquire   the    highest   hon- 
ors  in   every   department   of    knowledge,    and   will 
obtain  the  esteem  of  his  associates  by  his  amiable 
and   unaffected   manners.      The   guardians   of   the 
young  Duke  of  Carrington,  premier  peer  of  England, 
and  the  last  remaining   scion   of   the   ancient   and 
illustrious  house  of  Smith,  will  be  desirous  to  secure 
so  able  an  instructor  for  their  ward.     With  the  Duke, 
Quongti  will  perform  the  grand  tour,  and  visit  the 
polished  courts  of  Sydney  and  Capetown.     After  pre- 
vailing on  his  pupil,  with  great  difficulty,  to  subdue  a 
violent  and  imprudent  passion  which  he   had   con- 
ceived for  a  Hottentot  lady,  of  great  beauty  and  ac- 
complishments indeed,  but  of  dubious  character,  he 
will  travel  with  him  to  the  United  States  of  America. 
But   that   tremendous    war  which  will   be   fatal   to 
American  liberty  will,  at  that  time,  be  raging  through 
the  whole  federation.     At  New  York  the  travellers 
will  hear  of  the  final  defeat  and  death  of  the  illustri- 
ous champion  of  freedom,  Jonathan  Higginbottom, 
and  of  the  elevation  of  Ebenezer  Hogsflesh  to  the 
perpetual  Presidency.     They  will  not  chose  to  pro- 
ceed in  a  journey  which  would  expose  them  to  the 


96  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

insults  of  that  brutal  soldier}',  whose  cruelty  and 
rapacity  will  have  devastated  Mexico  and  Columbia, 
and  now,  at  length,  enslaved  their  own  country. 

On  their  return  to  England,  a.  d.  2810,  the  death 
of  the  Duke  will  compel  his  preceptor  to  seek  for  a 
subsistence  by  literary  labors.  His  fame  will  be 
raised  by  many  small  productions  of  considerable 
merit ;  and  he  will  at  last  obtain  a  permanent  place 
in  the  highest  class  of  writers  by  his  great  epic 
poem. 

The  celebrated  work  will  become,  with  unexampled 
rapidity,  a  popular  favorite.  The  sale  will  be  so 
beneficial  to  the  author  that,  instead  of  going  about 
the  dirty  streets  on  his  velocipede,  he  will  be  enabled 
to  set  up  his  balloon. 

The  character  of  this  noble  poem  will  be  so  finely 
and  justly  given  in  the  Timbuctoo  Review  for  April, 
2825,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from  translating  the 
passage.  The  author  will  be  our  poet's  old  preceptor, 
Professor  Kissey  Kickey. 

"  In  pathos,  in  splendor  of  language,  in  sweet- 
ness of  versification,  Mr.  Quongti  has  long  been 
considered  as  unrivalled.  In  his  exquisite  poem  on 
the  Ornithorhynchus  Paradoxus  all  these  qualities  are 
displayed  in  their  greatest  perfection.     How  exquis- 


"THE    WELLINGTONIAD?  97 

itely  does  that  work  arrest  and  embody  the  undefined 
and  vague  shadows  which  flit  over  an  imaginative 
mind.  The  cold  worlding  may  not  comprehend  it ; 
but  it  will  find  a  response  in  the  bosom  of  every 
youthful  poet,  of  every  enthusiastic  lover,  who  has 
seen  an  Omithorhynchus  Paradoxus  by  moonlight. 
But  we  were  yet  to  learn  that  he  possessed  the  com- 
prehension, the  judgment,  and  the  fertility  of  mind 
indispensable  to  the  epic  poet. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  a  plot  more  perfect 
than  that  of  the  'Wellingtoniad.'  It  is  most  faithful 
to  the  manners  of  the  age  to  which  it  relates.  It 
preserves  exactly  all  the  historical  circumstances, 
and  interweaves  them  most  artfully  with  all  the 
speciousa  mirada  of  supernatural  agency." 

Thus  far  the  learned  Professor  of  Humanity  in  the 
university  of  Timbuctoo.  I  fear  that  the  critics  of 
our  time  will  form  an  opinion  diametrically  opposite 
as  to  these  very  points.  Some  will,  I  fear,  be  dis- 
gusted by  the  machinery,  which  is  derived  from  the 
mythology  of  ancient  Greece.  I  can  only  say  that, 
in  the  twenty-ninth  century,  that  machinery  will  be 
universally  in  use  among  poets  ;  and  that  Quongti 
will  use  it,  partly  in  conformity  with  the  general 
practice,  and  partly  from  a  veneration,  perhaps  ex- 


98  TREASURE-TROVE. 

cessive,  for  the  great  remains  of  classical  antiquity, 
which  will  then,  as  now,  be  assiduously  read  by  every 
man  of  education  ;  though  Tom  Moore's  songs  will 
be  forgotten,  and  only  three  copies  of  Lord  Byron's 
works  will  exist :  one  in  the  possession  of  King 
George  the  Nineteenth,  one  in  the  Duke  of  Carring- 
ton's  collection,  and  one  in  the  library  of  the  British 
Museum.  Finally,  should  any  good  people  be  con- 
cerned to  hear  that  Pagan  fictions  will  so  long  retain 
their  influence  over  literature,  let  them  reflect  that, 
as  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's  says,  in  his  "  Proofs  of 
the  Inspiration  of  the  Sibylline  Verses,"  read  at  the 
last  meeting  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Literature,  "  at 
all  events,  a  Pagan  is  not  a  Papist." 

Some  readers  of  the  present  day  may  think  that 
Quongti  is  by  no  means  entitled  to  the  compliments 
which  his  Negro  critic  pays  him  on  his  adherence  to 
the  historical  circumstances  of  the  time  in  which  he  has 
chosen  his  subject :  that,  where  he  introduces  any 
trait  of  our  manners,  it  is  in  the  wrong  place,  and 
that  he  confounds  the  customs  of  our  age  with  those 
of  much  more  remote  periods.  I  can  only  say  that  the 
charge  is  infinitely  more  applicable  to  Homer,  Virgil 
and  Tasso.  If,  therefore,  the  reader  should  detect,  in 
the  following  abstract  of  the  plot,  any  little  deviation 


"THE  WELLINGTONIAD."  99 

from  strict  historical  accuracy,  let  him  reflect,  for  a 
moment,  whether  Agamemnon  would  not  have  found 
as  much  to  censure  in  the  Iliad, — Dido  in  the  y£neid, 
— or  Godfrey  in  the  Jerusalem.  Let  him  not  suffer 
his  opinions  to  depend  on  circumstances  which  cannot 
possibly  affect  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  represen- 
tation. If  it  be  possible  for  a  single  man  to  kill  hun- 
dreds in  battle,  the  impossibility  is  not  diminished 
by  distance  of  time.  If  it  be  as  certain  that  Rinaldo 
never  disenchanted  a  forest  in  Palestine  as  it  is  that 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  never  disenchanted  the  forest 
of  Soignies,  can  we,  as  rational  men,  tolerate  the  one 
story  and  ridicule  the  other  ?  Of  this,  at  least,  I  am 
certain,  that  whatever  excuse  we  have  for  admiring 
the  plots  of  those  famous  poems,  our  children  will 
have  for  extolling  that  of  the  "  Wellingtoniad." 

I  shall  proceed  to  give  a  sketch  of  the  narrative. 
The  subject  is  "  The  Reign  of  the  Hundred  Days." 

Book  I.  The  poem  commences,  in  form,  with  a 
solemn  proposition  of  the  subject.  Then  the  muse 
is  invoked  to  give  the  poet  accurate  information  as 
to  the  cause  of  so  terrible  a  commotion.  The  answer 
to  this  question,  being,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  the  joint 
production  of  the  poet  and  the  muse,  ascribes  the 
event  to  circumstances  which  have  hitherto  eluded 


r  oo  TREASURE-  TRO  VE. 

all    the    research  of  political    writers,    namely,    the 
influence  of  the  god   Mars,  who,  we  are  told,  had 
some  fort)'  years  before  usurped  the  conjugal  rights 
of  old  Carlo  Buonaparte,  and  given  birth   to  Napo- 
leon.    By   his   incitement  it  was  that  the  emperor 
with  his  devoted  companions  was  now  on  the  sea, 
returning  to  his  ancient  dominions.     The  gods  were 
at  present,  fortunately  for  the   adventurer,  feasting 
with  the  Ethiopians,  whose  entertainments,  according 
to    the  ancient  custom   described  by  Homer,   they 
annually  attended,  with  the  same  sort  of  condescend- 
ing gluttony  which  now  carries  the  cabinet  to  Guild- 
hall on  the  9th  of  November.     Neptune  was,  in  con- 
sequence, absent,  and  unable  to  prevent  the   enemy 
of  his   favorite    island   from    crossing  his   element. 
Boreas,  however,  who  had  his  abode  on  the  banks  of 
the  Russian  ocean,  and  who,  like  Thetis  in  the  Iliad, 
was  not  of  sufficient  quality  to  have  an  invitation   to 
Ethiopia,  resolves  to  destroy  the   armament  which 
brings  war  and  danger  to  his  beloved  Alexander. 
He  accordingly  raises  a  storm  which  is  most  power- 
fully described.      Napoleon  bewails   the  inglorious 
fate  for  which   he    seems  to  be  reserved.      "  Oh ! 
thrice  happy,"  says  he,  "  those  who  were  frozen  to 
death   at   Krasnoi,  or  slaughtered   at  Leipsic     Oh, 


"THE  WELLINGTONIAD."  101 

Kutusoff,  bravest  of  the  Russians,  wherefore  was  I 
not  permitted  to  fall  by  thy  victorious  sword  ?  "  He 
then  offers  a  prayer  to  ^Eolus,  and  vows  to  him  a 
sacrifice  of  a  black  ram.  In  consequence,  the  god 
recalls  his  turbulent  subject ;  the  sea  is  calmed  ;  and 
the  ship  anchors  in  the  port  of  Frejus.  Napoleon 
and  Bertrand,  who  is  always  called  the  faithful 
Bertrand,  land  to  explore  the  country  ;  Mars  meets 
them  disguised  as  a  lancer  of  the  guard,  wearing 
the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  He  advises  them 
to  apply  for  necessaries  of  all  kinds  to  the  governor, 
shows  them  the  way,  and  disappears  with  a  strong 
smell  of  gunpowder.  Napoleon  makes  a  pathetic 
speech,  and  enters  the  governor's  house.  Here  he 
sees  hanging  up  a  fine  print  of  the  battle  of  Ausier- 
litz,  himself  in  the  foreground  giving  his  orders. 
This  puts  him  in  high  spirits ;  he  advances  and  salutes 
the  governor,  who  receives  him  most  loyally,  gives  him 
an  entertainment,  and,  according  to  the  usage  of  all 
epic  hosts,  insists  after  dinner  on  a  full  narration  of 
all  that  has  happened  to  him  since  the  battle  of  Leipsic. 
Book  II.  Napoleon  carries  his  narrative  from  the 
battle  of  Leipsic  to  his  abdication.  But,  as  we  shall 
have  a  great  quantity  of  fighting  on  our  hands,  I  think 
it  best  to  omit  the  details. 


ro2  TREASURE-TROVE. 

Book  III.  Napoleon  describes  his  sojourn  at  Elba 
and  his  return ;  how  he  was  driven  by  stress  of 
weather  to  Sardinia,  and  fought  with  the  harpies 
there  ;  how  he  was  then  carried  southward  to  Sicily, 
where  he  generously  took  on  board  an  English  sailor, 
whom  a  man-of-war  had  unhappily  left  there,  and  who 
was  in  imminent  danger  of  being  devoured  by  the 
Cyclops  ;  how  he  landed  in  the  bay  of  Naples,  saw 
the  Sibyl,  and  descended  to  Tartarus  ;  how  he  held 
a  long  and  pathetic  conversation  with  Poniatowski 
whom  he  found  wandering  unburied  on  the  banks  of 
the  Styx  ;  how  he  swore  to  give  him  a  splendid  funer- 
al ;  how  he  had  also  an  affectionate  interview  with 
Desaix ;  how  Moreau  and  Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie 
fled  at  the  sight  of  him.  He  relates  that  he  then 
re-embarked,  and  met  with  nothing  of  importance 
till  the  commencement  of  the  storm  with  which  the 
poem  opens. 

Book  IV.  The  scene  changes  to  Paris.  Fame,  in 
the  garb  of  an  express,  brings  intelligence  of  the 
landing  of  Napoleon.  The  king  performs  a  sacrifice  : 
but  the  entrails  are  unfavorable  ;  and  the  victim  is 
without  a  heart.  He  prepares  to  encounter  the  invader. 
A  young  captain  of  the  guard, — the  son  of  Maria 
Antoinette  by   Apollo, — in   the   shape  of  a  fiddler, 


"  THE    WELLINGTON/A  D."  103 

rushes  in  to  tell  him  that  Napoleon  is  approaching 
with  a  vast  army.  The  royal  forces  are  drawn  out 
for  battle.  Full  catalogues  are  given  of  the  regiments 
on  both  sides:  their  colonels,  lieutenant-colonels,  and 
uniform. 

Book  V.  The  king  comes  forward  and  defies  Napo- 
leon to  single  combat.  Napoleon  accepts  it.  Sacri- 
fices are  offered.  The  ground  is  measured  by  Ney 
and  Macdonald.  The  combatants  advance.  Louis 
snaps  his  pistol  in  vain.  The  bullet  of  Napoleon,  on  the 
contrary,  carries  off  the  tip  of  the  king's  ear.  Napoleon 
then  rushes  on  him  sword  in  hand.  But  Louis  snatches 
up  a  stone,  such  as  ten  men  of  those  degenerate  days 
will  be  unable  to  move,  and  hurls  it  at  his  antagonist. 
Mars  averts  it.  Napoleon  then  seizes  Louis,  and  is 
about  to  strike  a  fatal  blow,  when  Bacchus  intervenes, 
like  Venus  in  the  third  book  of  the  Illiad,  bears  off  the 
king  in  a  thick  cloud,  and  seats  him  in  an  hotel  at 
Lille,  with  a  bottle  of  Maraschino  and  a  basin  of  soup 
before  him.  Both  armies  instantly  proclaim  Napoleon 
emperor. 

Book  VI.  Neptune,  returned  from  his  Ethiopian 
revels,  sees  with  rage  the  events  which  have  taken 
place  in  Europe.  He  flies  to  the  cave  of  Alecto 
and  drags  out  the  fiend,  commanding  her  to  excite 


104  TREASURE-TROVE. 

universal  hostility  against  Napoleon.  The  Fury  repairs 
to  Lord  Castlereagh ;  and  as,  when  she  visited  Turnus, 
she  assumed  the  form  of  an  old  woman,  she  here 
appears  in  the  kindred  shape  of  Mr.  Vansittart,  and 
in  an  impassioned  address  exhorts  his  lordship  to  war. 

His  Lordship, like  Turnus, treats  this  unwonted  mon- 
itor with  great  disrespect,  tells  him  that  he  is  an  old 
doting  fool,  and  advises  him  to  look  after  the  ways 
and  means  and  leave  questions  of  peace  and  war  to  his 
betters.  The  Fury  then  displays  all  her  terrors.  The 
neat  powdered  hair  bristles  up  into  snakes ;  the 
black  stockings  appear  clotted  with  blood ;  and 
brandishing  a  torch,  she  announces  her  name  and 
mission.  Lord  Castlereagh,  seized  with  fury,  flies 
instantly  to  the  Parliament,  and  recommends  war  with 
a  torrent  of  eloquent  invective.  All  the  members 
instantly  clamor  for  vengeance,  seize  their  arms 
which  are  hanging  round  the  walls  of  the  house,  and 
rush  forth  to  prepare  for  instant  hostilities. 

Book  VII.  In  this  book,  intelligence  arrives  at 
London  of  the  flight  of  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme 
from  France.  It  is  stated  that  this  heroine,  armed 
from  head  to  foot,  defended  Bordeaux  against  the 
adherents  of  Napoleon,  and  that  she  fought  hand  to 
hand  with    Clausel,    and   beat   him   down   with    an 


"  THE    WELLINGTUNIAD." 


io5 


enormous  stone.  Deserted  by  her  followers,  she  at 
last,  like  Turnus,  plunged,  armed  as  she  was,  into 
the  Garonne,  and  swam  to  an  English  ship  which  lay 
off  the  coast.  This  intelligence  yet  more  inflames 
the  English  to  war. 

A  yet  bolder  flight  than  any  which  has  been 
mentioned  follows.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  goes 
to  take  leave  of  the  duchess  ;  and  a  scene  passes 
quite  equal  to  the  famous  interview  of  Hector  and 
Andromache.  Lord  Douro  is  frightened  at  his  fa- 
ther's feather,  but  begs  for  his  epaulette. 

Book  VIII.  Neptune,  trembling  for  the  event  of 
the  war,  implores  Venus,  who  as  the  offspring  of  his 
element,  naturally  venerates  him,  to  procure  from 
Vulcan  a  deadly  sword  and  a  pair  of  unerring  pistols 
for  the  Duel.  They  are  accordingly  made,  and 
superbly  decorated.  The  sheath  of  the  sword,  like 
the  shield  of  Achilles,  is  carved  in  exquisitely  fine 
miniature,  with  scenes  from  the  common  life  of  the 
period ;  a  dance  at  Almack's,  a  boxing  match  at  the 
Fives-court,  a  lord  mayor's  procession,  and  a  man 
hanging.  All  these  are  fully  and  elegantly  described. 
The  Duke  thus  armed  hastens  to  Brussels. 

Book  IX.  The  Duke  is  received  at  Brussels  by  the 
King  of  the  Netherlands,  with  great  magnificence. 


xo6  TREASURE-TROVE. 

He  is  informed  of  the  approach  of  the  armies  of  all 
the  confederate  kings.  The  poet,  however,  with  a 
laudable  zeal  for  the  glory  of  his  country,  completely 
passes  over  the  exploits  of  the  Austrians  in  Italy, 
and  the  discussion  of  the  congress.  England  and 
France,  Wellington  and  Napoleon,  almost  exclusively 
occupy  his  attention.  Several  days  are  spent  at 
Brussels  in  revelry.  The  English  heroes  astonish 
their  allies  by  exhibiting  splendid  games,  similar  to 
those  which  draw  the  flower  of  the  British  aristocracy 
to  Newmarket  and  Moulsey  Hurst,  and  which  will 
be  considered  by  our  descendants  with  as  much  ven- 
eration as  the  Olympian  and  Isthmian  contests  by 
classical  students  of  the  present  time.  In  the  combat 
of  the  cestus,  Shaw,  the  life-guardsman,  vanquishes 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  obtains  a  bull  as  a  prize. 
In  the  horse-race,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Lord 
Uxbridge  ride  against  each  other  ;  the  Duke  is  vic- 
torious, and  is  rewarded  with  twelve  opera-girls. 
On  the  last  clay  of  the  festivities,  a  splendid  dance 
takes  place,  at  which  all  the  heroes  attend. 

Book  X.  Mars,  seeing  the  English  army  thus  in- 
active, hastens  to  rouse  Napoleon,  who,  conducted 
by  Night  and  Silence,  unexpectedly  attacks  the 
Prussians.     The   slaughter  is   immense.      Napoleon 


"THE    WELLINGTONIAD."  ioj 

kills  many  whose  histories  and  families  are  happily 
particularized.  He  slays  Herman,  the  craniologist, 
who  dwelt  by  the  linden-shadowed  Elbe,  and  meas- 
ured with  his  eye  the  skulls  of  all  who  walked  through 
the  streets  of  Berlin.  Alas  !  his  own  skull  is  now 
cleft  by  the  Corsican  sword.  Four  pupils  of  the 
University  of  Jena  advance  together  to  encounter  the 
Emperor  ;  at  four  blows  he  destroys  them  all.  Blu- 
cher  rushes  to  arrest  the  devastation ;  Napoleon 
strikes  him  to  the  ground,  and  is  on  the  point  of  kill- 
ing him,  but  Gneisenau,  Ziethen,  Bulow,  and  all  the 
other  heroes  of  the  Prussian  army,  gather  round  him 
and  bear  the  venerable  chief  to  a  distance  from  the 
field.  The  slaughter  is  continued  till  night.  In  the 
mean  time  Neptune  has  despatched  Fame  to  bear 
the  intelligence  to  the  Duke,  who  is  dancing  at 
Brussels.  The  whole  army  is  put  in  motion.  The 
Duke  of  Brunswick's  horse  speaks  to  admonish  him 
of  his  danger,  but  in  vain. 

Book  XL  Picton,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  and 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  engage  Ney  at  Quatre  Bras. 
Ney  kills  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  and  strips  him, 
sending  his  belt  to  Napoleon.  The  English  fall 
back  on  Waterloo.  Jupiter  calls  a  council  of  the 
gods,    and   commands  that  none  shall  interfere  on 


108  TREASURE-TROVE. 

either  side.     Mars  and  Neptune  made  very  eloquent 
speeches.     The  battle  of  Waterloo  commences.     Na- 
poleon  kills    Picton    and    Delancy.      Ney   engages 
Ponsonby  and  kills  him.     The  Prince  of  Orange  is 
wounded  by  Soult.     Lord  Uxbridge  flies  to  check 
the  carnage.     He  is  severely  wounded  by  Napoleon, 
and  only  saved  by  the  assistance  of  Lord  Hill.     In 
the  mean  time  the  Duke  makes  a  tremendous  car- 
nage   among  the   French.     He  encounters  General 
Duhesme   and  vanquishes  him,  but  spares  his  life. 
He  kills  Toubert,  who  kept  the  gaming-house  in  the 
Palais  Royal,    and    Maronet,  who  loved   to   spend 
whole  nights  in  drinking  champagne.     Clerval,  who 
had  been  hooted  from  the  stage,  and  had  then  be, 
come  a  captain  in  the  Imperial  Guard,  wished  that  he 
had  still  continued  to  face  the  more  harmless  enmity  of 
the  Parisian  pit.     But  Larre,  the  son  of  Esculapius, 
whom  his  father  had  instructed  in  all  the  secrets  of 
his  art,  and  who  was  surgeon-general  of  the  French 
army,  embraced  the  knees  of  the  destroyer,  and  con- 
jured him  not  to  give  death  to  one  whose  office  it 
was  to  give  life.     The  Duke  raised  him,  and  bade 
him  live. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  the  close.   •  Napoleon  rushes 
to   encounter   Wellington.      Both    armies   stand    in 


«  THE  WELLINGTONIAD?  109 

mute  amaze.  The  heroes  fire  their  pistols  ;  that  of 
Napoleon  misses,  but  that  of  Wellington,  formed  by 
the  hand  of  Vulcan,  and  primed  by  the  Cyclops, 
wounds  the  Emperor  in  the  thigh.  He  flies,  and 
takes  refuge  among  his  troops.  The  flight  becomes 
promiscuous.  The  arrival  of  the  Prussians,  from  a 
motive  of  patriotism,  the  poet  completely  passes 
over. 

Book  XII.  Things  are  now  hastening  to  the  ca- 
tastrophe. Napoleon  flies  to  London,  and  seating 
himself  on  the  hearth  of  the  Regent,  embraces  the 
household  gods,  and  conjures  him,  by  the  venerable 
age  of  George  III.,  and  by  the  opening  perfections 
of  the  Princess  Charlotte  to  spare  him.  The  Prince 
is  inclined  to  do  so  ;  when,  looking  on  his  breast 
he  sees  there  the  belt  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick. 
He  instantly  draws  his  sword  and  is  about  to  stab 
the  destroyer  of  his  kinsman.  Piety  and  hospitality, 
however,  restrain  his  hand.  He  takes  a  middle 
course,  and  condemns  Napoleon  to  be  exposed  on  a 
desert  island.  The  king  of  France  re-enters  Paris  ; 
and  the  poem  concludes. 

THOMAS  B.  MACAULAY. 


ST.  TWEL'MO; 

OR,    THE 

©unciform  ©sclopctitet  of  ©fjattanooga. 


ARGUMENT. 


It  will  perhaps  be  complained  that  in  this  story  the  Author 
"aims  at  nothing."  If  so,  let  me  reply,  in  his  behalf,  that  if  he 
hits  it  he  will  be  peifectly  satisfied. 

Originally,  I  intended  to  address  myself  only  to  the  half-edu- 
cated idiots  of  the  land  who  are  unfamiliar  with  the  Coptic  and 
do  not  take  dictionaries  with  them  into  the  country  by  way  of 
light  summer  reading.  But  if  the  learned  are  attracted  to  my 
net,  so  much  the  better — all  is  fish.  In  the  outset  I  own  to  an 
endeavor  to  catch  a  spark  of  St.  Elmo's  fire — there's  nothing 
mean  about  me.  As  old  Thomas  Fuller  quaintly  puts  it,  "  Let 
my  candle  go  out  in  a  stink  when  I  refuse  to  confess  from 
whom  I  have  lighted  it."  If  it  be  further  urged  that  not  con- 
tent with  a  spark,  I  have  in  some  instances  raked  the  entire 
hearth,  I  fear  I  must  still  plead  guilty  to  the  charge.  For 
where  it  was  impossible  to  pile  on  the  agony  of  erudition,  I 
took  whole  pages  as  well  as  paragraphs,  from  the  original,  dis- 
pensing with  quotation  remarks.  If  it  be  complained  that,  in 
consequence,  the  reader  can  not  tell  where  the  original  ends 
and  travesty  begins,  certainly  a  higher  compliment,  or  a  more 
complete  justification  of  purpose  could  not  fall  to  my  lot. 

John  Paul. 


CHAPTER  I. 


T.  TWEL'MO  was  an  extraordinary  char- 
acter, living  under  the  shadow  of  Look- 
out Mountain. 

Whether  he  lived  there  because  of  the  blind  fumb- 
ling of  Atheistic  Chance,  or  in  accordance  with  a 
rigid  edict  of  Pantheistic  Necessity,  will  never  be 
known  to  any  one  ;  but  it  is  quite  likely  that  necessity 
had  something  to  do  with  it,  since  it  is  otherwise 
impossible  to  understand  why  a  man  should  live  so 
far  from  civilization — and  so  near  Chattanooga  ! 

Eccentricities  may  have  compelled  him  to  seek 
this  retirement,  for  it  is  quite  certain  that  a  man  of 
his  manners  would  have  been  tolerated  in  no  re- 
spectable society  ;  and  had  he  attempted  to  pitch  his 
tent  further  north,  the  catholic  chances  are  that  he 
would  have  been  speedily  committed  to  an  asylum 

for  the  insane. 

8 


1 1 4  TREASURE-  TRO  VE. 

Southern  gentlemen  generally  are  given  to  stock 
raising ;  but  under  the  shadow  of  Lookout  Moun- 
tain St.  Twel'mo  gathered  about  him  some  of  the 
most  extraordinary  horned  cattle  that  ever  were 
seen  in  a  farm-yard.  Instead  of  dun  cows  from 
Durham,  he  imported  a  white  cow  from  Ava,  utterly 
regardless  of  expense  and  the  remonstrance  of  the 
negress  dairy-maid  (the  beast,  had  no  milk-giving 
medium)  that  she  should  much  prefer  "an  udder 
kine." 

Then  there  were  reindeer  from  Lapland,  walruses 
from  the  cold  Arctic  seas,  goats  from  Cashmere, 
(which  were  mere  goats  after  all),  chamois  from  the 
Jungfrau,  gorillas  and  guerillas  from  Central  Africa 
and  Missouri,  and  pelicans  from  Louisiana. 

These,  with  the  polecat,  native  to  the  State, 
furnished  him  fragrant  food  for  reflection  and 
employment  of  his  leisure  hours.  Swearing  and 
stirring  up  the  animals  were  the  only  amusements  in 
which  he  indulged,  quoting  poetry  and  rudeness  to 
his  mother  constituting  the  serious  business  of  his 
life. 

He  was  accustomed  to  speak  of  his  menage ;  but 
the  uneducated  whites  of  the  district  understood  the 
term  only  as  an  abbreviation  of  "  menagerie."    It  is 


ST.  TWEL'MO.  115 

little  wonder  that  they  roundly  swore,  in  the  vernacu- 
lar of  that  region,  that  St.  Twel'mo  had  "  the  dog- 
gonedest  •  and  the  ^Vz^-stavingest  and  the  r/)>-snort- 

Lngest  queerest  cattle,  that  ever  one  sot  eyes  on  !  " 
For  all  his  cattle,  however,   and  his  fifteen  acres 

of    pasture,    St.  Twel'mo    could    not   be   called    a 

"gentleman-farmer."     For,  besides  swearing  at  his 

mother,  he  had  a  habit  of  yelling  ha  !   ha  !   at  young 

ladies,  and  lighting   cheap  cigars  in  their  presence 

without  asking  them  if  they  "  objected  to  smoking," 

practices  in  which  gentlemen,  whether  farmers  or  not, 

never  indulge. 

But  I  am  managing  my  story  very  inartistically. 
Let  me  introduce  the  heroine. 

Etna  Early  was  another  singular  character  ;  and  I 
may  as  well  remark,  right  here,  that  Lookout  Moun- 
tain must  be  continually  in  labor  with  queer  characters 
as  well  as  with  queer  cattle,  for  certainly  it  brings 
forth  nothing  else,  if  cotemporary  history  may  be 
relied  on. 

At  the  hour  and  minute  at  which  our  story  opens, 
Etna  was  carrying  a  pail  of  water  upon  her  head, 
which  will  fully  account  for  the  "  classic  Caryatides" 
attitudes  for  which  she  afterwards  became  famous,  as 


1 1 6  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

well  as  for  the  symptoms  of  "  water  on  the  brain  " 
which  she  exhibited  at  times  in  the  course  of  her 
subsequent  brilliant  career.  And  while  she  carried 
she  sang,  waking  the  echoes  of  Lookout  with  the 
chaunt  of  A  Bucket. 

Etna's  occupation  at  the  moment  of  introduction 
was  fortunate  ;  it  enabled  her  to  turn  pail  and  throw 
cold  water  upon  a  duel  over  which  she  happened  to 
stumble,  too  late  to  prevent  a  fatal  consummation  to 
one  of  the  parties,  and  not  early  enough,  unfortunately, 
to  ensure  the  drowning  of  both.  However,  she  was 
quite  in  time  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  the  sinfulness 
of  duelling,  to  which,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
only  the  dead  man  turned  an  ear,  neither  of  the 
seconds  having  a  minute  to  spare,  and  the  sur- 
viving principal  having  another  engagement  on  hand. 

The  next,  and  perhaps  a  more  important  epoch  in 
Etna's  life,  was  her  discovery  of  a  dictionary,  though 
how  such  a  thing  got  under  the  shadow  of  Look- 
out Mountain  only  the  Lord  and  the  colporteurs 
know.  This  was  worse  than  the  duel ;  it  proved,  in 
fact,  a  triple  calamity,  for  she  acquired  in  conse- 
quence a  fatal  fondness  for  polysyllables,  a  trick  of 
speaking  them  trippingly  and  a  contempt  for  com- 
mon English,  from  which  she  never  recovered. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HAD  forgotten  to  mention  that  Etna 
had  a  grandfather,  Aaron  Hunt,  a 
bl  acksmith,  a  useful,  and  withal  a  rather 
sensible  man ;  reasons  enough,  and  too  many,  why 
he  should  be  dismissed  from  the  story  and  buried 
under  the  shadow  of  Lookout  Mountain  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment. 

On  this  occasion  Etna,  accompanied  by  her  dog 
"  Grip  "  (his  name  was  Agrippa — and  so  was  he,  as 
many  a  school-boy  could  testify  to  his  sorrow),  was 
skipping  along  the  path  that  led  to  the  shop.  On 
the  way  she  encountered  a  solitary  horseman,  who 
asked  her  if  there  was  a  blacksmith  in  the  vicinity 
— his  horse  had  lost  a  shoe. 

With  that  keen  eye  to  business  which  everywhere 
forms  an  element  of  the  feminine  character,   Etna 


1 1 8  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

replied  that  her  grandfather  was  in  the  "profession," 
and  was  counted  the  best  "  tharabout,"  pointing  the 
stranger  so  plainly  to  the  shop  that  he  could  only 
wilfully  blunder  upon  the  forge  of  a  rival. 

Arrived  at  the  smithy,  she  found  the  stranger 
already  there,  a  natural  result  of  his  being  on 
horseback  and  her  on  foot.  Not  at  aH  regardful  of 
the  fact  that  work  was  on  the  anvil,  and  that  the 
stranger  was  waiting,  she  seated  herself  on  a  keg  of 
nails  and  asked  her  grandfather  whether  he  thought 
Jupiter  treated  Juno  exactly  right  in  the  matter-  of 
io ;  for  she  had  not  yet  encountered  a  full-grown 
classical  dictionary,  and  scarcely  knew  IO  even  by 
sight.  Her  mistake  in  this  instance  may,  perhaps, 
be  set  down  to  a  Ten-nes-see  education. 

With  that  ingenuousness  and  inattention  to  busi- 
ness for  which  old  age  is  sometimes  remarkable, 
Aaron  dropped  the  horse's  hoof  from  his  lap  and 
proceeded  to  discuss  the  mythology  in  all  its 
bearings  and  interpretations. 

The  strartger  waxed  as  wroth  with  this  Aaron, 
under  the  shadow  of  Lookout  Mountain,  as  did 
Moses  with  the  old-time  Aaron  under  the  shadow  of 
Sinai ;  and  scowled  and  stamped  and  clamored  to 
have   his   horse   shod.     But    it    was    impossible    to 


ST.  TWEUMO.  119 

quench  Etna  when  eruptive  with  erudition,  and  still 
the  lava  of  learning  flowed  from  the  "cratur's" 
mouth. 

"  Dog-gone  Jupiter  and  Io  !  How  much  do  /owe 
you  ? "  shouted  the  stranger  at  last,  flinging  a  gold 
dollar  down  in  the  tall  grass  and  galloping  away 
with  his  fingers  in  his  ears* 

"  He  is  a  rude,  blasphemous,  wicked  man,"  said 
Aaron  Hunt,  after  hunting  for  the  coin  an  hour  or 
two  without  finding  it.  "  I  don't  care  for  the  dollar," 
he  added,  as  he  returned  his  spectacles  to  his  pocket 
and  lit  his  pipe  at  the  forge,  "  but  I  would  mainly 
like  to  know  where  the  darned  thing  got  to.  " 

Etna  continued  the  search.  It  was  vain  so  far  as 
finding  the  money  was  concerned  ;  but  judge  of  her 
surprise  and.  delight  when  she  found,  on  the  stran- 
ger's late  stamping-ground,  an  Unabridged  Webster's 
Dictionary,  a  complete  set  of  the  Cyclopedia  Britan- 
nicaj  Piper's  Operative  Surgery,  and  a  Dictionary 
of  Familiar  Quotations.  On  the  fly-leaf  of  one  of 
the  volumes  was  printed  "  i2mo,"  and  on  that  of  the 
"  Unabridged,"   Lasciaogui  speranzivoi  chf  entrate. 

Turning  to  the  book  of  quotations,  she  found  that 
the  phrase  was  translated,  "  Who  enters  here  leaves 
Hope  behind." 


1 2  o  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

Seating  herself  on  the  grass,  she  committed  to 
memory  all  the  big  words  of  the  Dictionary,  and  half 
the  contents  of  the  Cyclopedia,  before  sundown. 
Returning  home,  she  found  her  grandfather  peace- 
fully smoking  a  pipe  at  his  cottage  door. 

"  Welcome,  my  child,  "  said  he,  "  come,  tell  me 
how  you  have  amused  yourself  this  bright,  beautiful 
afternoon." 

"  Aged  grandsire,"  replied  the  child,  "  to  plunge 
in  medias  res,  inaugurating  my  narration  without  an 
appogiatura ;  touching  the  origin  of  the  infusoria, 
Leuwenhoek,  Gleichen,  Zenzis-Khan,  Alexander, 
Attila,  Gurowski,  to  say  nothing  of  the  iridiscent 
Illuminati  of  Boston  (this  last  was  spoken  sarcastic- 
ally, for  Etna  was  a  true  Southern  girl),  all  entertain 
different  opinions.  Also,  in  the  course  of  varied 
studies,  I  observe  with  regret  that,  as  regards  the 
Rhinoplastic  or  Taliacotian  operation,  as  to  whether 
the  cellular  tissue  should  be  dissected  down  to  the 
periosteum,  leaving  the  os  humerus  or  lumbar  region 
to  infringe  upon  the  pericardium,  to  the  disarrange- 
ment and  displacement  of  the  arbor  vitce,  chirur- 
geons  differ,  nor  are  they  even  united  as  to  the  best 
method  of  demephitization  ;  ischuretics  also  are  still 
a  matter  of    dispute.     And   when  chirurgeons  who 


ST.  TWEUMO.  •    121 

have  passed  beyond  the  stormy  esophagus  of  science 
and  gained  the  smooth  Bahr-Shei-tan  beyond  (here 
"  Grip  "  barked)  differ  by  so  much  as  a  dodecatemo- 
rion,  who  shall  decide  ?  You  may ',  par  example,  imag- 
ine that,  because  I  am  a  woman,  I  have  no  right  to 
express  an  opinion  thus  freely  and  con  amore;  but,  is 
woman  merely  an  adscriptus  gfeb/z  chameleon-like — 
but  here  I  will  explain  that  the  old  theory  about  the 
chameleon  taking  its  hue  from — 

"  O  grandy  !  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

For  she  now  noticed  that  the  old  man's  head  re- 
clined peacefully  on  his  breast. 

Alas!  as  Etna  expressed  it  in  her  diary,  Aaron 
Hunt  had  "passed  to  everlasting  repose."  As  a 
gambling  friend  of  the  family  told  it  at  the  tavern 
that  evening,  somewhat  more  tersely,  he  had  "passed 
in  his  chips." 

To  put  it  in  plain  English,  he  was  dead.  The 
appogiatura  staggered  him  some,  but  the  dodecatemo- 
rion  knocked  him  cold  as  a  wedge. 
-  Quite  satisfied  with  the  result  of  her  first  experi- 
ment, Etna  packed  her  dictionaries  and  cyclopdias 
and  her  dog  "  Grip,"  and  started  by  the  next  train 
from  Chattanooga. 


CHAPTER  III. 

T  seems  that  they  have  a  branch  of  the 
Camden  and  Amboy  railroad  down  in 
Tennessee. 
There  was  a  smash  and  a  crash  of  silver  cords  and 
golden  bowls,  and  china  soup  tureens,  and  other 
crockery,  a  blind  fumbling  to  save  the  pieces,  cherry 
beams  and  butternut  timbers  dropped  down  .on  the 
astonished  passengers,  and  Etna  was  rudely  snatched 
from  the  banks  of  Bahr-Sheitan,  whereon  she  basked 
in  a  delicious  dream,  to  find  herself  buried  under 
dead  bodies  and  dictionaries  and  car  wheels  and 
cord  wood  which  had  fallen  on  her  in  the  general 
wreck  and  ruin. 

"  The   kind   and   gentlemanly   conductor "   came 
around  to  look  after  the  tickets.     Spying  Etna,  stand- 


ST.  TWEE  MO.  123 

ing  on  her  head  with  her  feet  sticking  out  of  the  rub- 
bish, he  inquired,  with  a  polite  bow,  if  he  could  do 
any  thing  for  her.  She  said  yes ;  that  sundry  im- 
pedimenta excoriated  her  cuticle  and  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  her  to  recalcitrate.  He  understood  the 
trouble  at  once,  and  replied,  "  Certainly  with  pleas- 
ure," swinging  his  lantern  three  times  round  his  head 
— a  signal  which  all  the  world  over  is  understood  to 
mean  "  down  brakes."  Men  came  rushing  from  all 
sides,  and  after  two  hours'  dry  digging  a  la  grec,  by 
two  stout  Irishmen  with  shovels,  Etna  was  excavated. 
She  had  sustained  some  slight  injuries — a  dislocated 
shoulder,  broken  ankles,  and  a  few  shattered  tibia — 
but  not  enough  to  prevent  her  from  entering  into 
cheerful  conversation  with  the  surgeon,  discussing 
cartilaginous  capsules,  provisional  calli,  and  repara- 
tion of  fractures  in  a  fashion  which  astonished,  if  it 
did  not  enlighten  that  worthy  man. 

Having  exhausted  her  subjects  and  the  surgeon, 
first  she  inquired  for  hear  dictionary,  and  than  for  b*r 
dog. 

The  dictionary,  somewhat  scraped  and  dusty,  but 
otherwise  quite  uninjured,  was  placed  in  her  hands. 
Clasping  it  to  her  heart,  she  expressed  a  desire  that 
it  should  be  buried  with  her  in  event  of  her  injuries 


124  TREASURE-TROVE. 

terminating  fatally  ;  its  presence,  she  said  was  neces- 
sary to  her  "  everlasting  repose." 

On  being  told  that  her  dog  was  dead,  she  mani- 
fested much  emotion  and  wept  bitterly.  It  was  plain 
to  the  most  casual  observer  that  the  poor  girl  had 
lost  her  Grip. 

Indeed  it  was  a  terrible  scene,  waterfalls,  lunch- 
baskets,  bird-cages,  and  hoop-skirts  were  piled  up  on 
all  sides  in  the  most  promiscuous  confusion. 

A  middle-dressed,  elegantly-aged  lady,  who  was 
fumbling  around  in  the  debris  for  her  false  teeth, 
found  Etna.  She  had  previously  overheard  her  con- 
versation with  the  surgeon. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  cried  she,  "  here  is  a  girl  of 
twelve  talking  like  a  long-bearded  rabbi ;  here 
is  another  curiosity  for  the  bear-garden."  And 
she  whisked  Etna  away  to  her  chateau,  known 
thereabout  as  Le  Beaucage,  which  lay  conveniently 
near. 

The  lady  was  St.  Twel'mo's  mother,  and  her  name 
was  Murray. 

With  the  proud  independence  of  a  noble  nature, 
Etna  refused  to  accept  the  home  which  was  offered  her 
unless  permitted  to  "pay  for  it."  This  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray would  not  allow — one  reason  of  her  refusing  to 


ST.  TWEVMO. 


"5 


"  take  any  thing  "  being  that  the  orphan  had  nothing 
to  give.  She  agreed  to  "  charge  it,"  however,  which, 
in  some  degree,  satisfied  Etna's  scruples,  and  recon- 
ciled her  to  become  a  permanent  fixture  of  Le 
Beaucage. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

fTNA'S  first  introduction  to  St.  Twel'mo 
happened  in  this  wise  : 

She  was  seated  in  her  bedroom  one 
morning  in  earnest  conversation  with  Mrs.  Murray. 
The  discourse  was  about  board,  lodgings,  and  music- 
lessons  ;  and  Etna  having  pledged  her  word  to  pay 
nothing  for  anything  until  she  had  some  thing  to  pay 
with,  Mrs.  Murray  was  delighted,  and  embraced  her 
sur  P ceil  gauche,  in  a  very  fervent  fashion. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  a  "  gentleman  " 
strode  into  the  room,  carrying  a  bag  of  game.  At 
sight  of  Etna,  he  stopped,  dropped  his  dead  ducks 
and  snipe  on  the  floor,  and  shouted  : 

"  What  the  devil  does  this  mean  ?  " 

Had  Etna  then  possessed  that  coolness  and 
savoir  /aire  which  she  acquired  later  in  life,  she 
might  have  replied  to  the  rude  conundrum  by  pro- 


ST.  TWEVMO.  I27 

pounding  one  much  more  impertinent.     Pointing  to 
the  mess  on  the  floor,  she  might  have  asked : 

"  Is  that  your  Little  Game  ? " 

But  it  is  recorded  of  her  on  this  occasion  that  she 
spoke  not  a  single  syllable.     Indeed,  she  was  never 
much  given  to  single  syllables,  rarely,  at  any  period  . 
of  her  career,  troubling  her  lips  with  a  word  of  less 
than  five. 

Mrs.  Murray  having  explained  that  the  young  lady 
was  one  of  the  sufferers  by  the  late  disaster,  picked 
up  the  game-bag,  and  taking  her  son  affectionately 
by  the  arm,  led  him  from  the  room,  without  giving 
him  a  chance  to  apologize  for  his  rudeness. 

Had  he  been  led  out  by  the  nose,  he  would  have 
had  no  more  than  his  desert,  and  scarcely  that ;  but 
mark  you  how  Etna  was  affected. 

A  thrill  shot  along  her  nerves ;  she  felt  a  blind 
fumbling  at  her  heart-strings  ;  a  presentiment  over- 
whelmed her ;  the  Pantheistic  Necessity  that  she 
should  marry  the  rude  intruder  became  evident  and 
apparent — in  him  she  recognized  the  coming  man. 

The  coming  man — that  is,  the  one  who  had  just 
gone  out — was  tall  and  athletic,  not  exactly  young 
and  not  precisely  elderly  ;  it  would  be  safe  to  set 
him  down  as  middle-aged.     According  to  all  accounts, 


I28  TREASURE-TROVE. 

he  must  have  been  a  rather  rum-looking  customer  ; 
for  his  fair  chiselled  lineaments  were  spotted  by  dis- 
sipation and  blackened  and  distorted  by  the  baleful 
fires  of  a  fierce,  passionate  nature,  and  a  restless, 
powerful,  and  unhallowed  intellect.  Furthermore, 
he  was  symmetrical  and  grand 

As  some  temple  of  Juno, 

Whose  polished  shafts 
Gleam' d  centuries  ago, 

In  the  morning  sunshine 
Of  a  day  of  wo 

(this  thing  resolves  itself  into  rhyme),  whose  untimely 
night  has  endured  for  nineteen  hundred  years;  so  in 
the  glorious  flush  of  his  youth  this  man  had  stood 
facing  a  noble  and  possibly  sanctified  future  (and 
things);  but  the  ungovernable  flames  of  sin  had 
reduced  him,  like  that  blackened  and  desecrated 
fane,  to  a  melancholy  mass  of  ashy  arches  and  black- 
ened columns,  where  ministering  priests,  all  holy 
aspirations,  slumbered  in  the  dust. 

The  dress  of  this  melancholy  mass  of  ashy  arches 
and  blackened  columns  was  costly  but  negligent,  and 
the  red  stain  on  his  jacket  told  that  his  errand  had 
not  been  fruitless  (from  which  it  might  be  inferred 


ST.   TWEDMO.  129 

that  he  had  been  strawberrying  as  well  as  ducking). 
As  part  of  this  costly  but  negligent  dress,  the  melan- 
choly mass  wore  a  straw  hat  belted  with  broad  black 
ribbons,  and  his  spurred  boots  (hunters  down  there 
always  put  spurs  on  when  they  chase  the  wild  duck 
and  the  fierce  snipe  to  their  Lookout  Mountain  fast- 
nesses) were  damp  and  muddy. 

It  seems  rather  melancholy,  at  first  glance,  that 
this  melancholy  mass  of  mud  and  ministering  priests, 
and  arches  and  columns,  and  spurs  and  straw  hats, 
and  broad  black  ribbons,  should  demean  itself  in  the 
way  he  did,  striding  into  a  young  lady's  bed-chamber, 
dumping  dead  ducks  on  the  carpet,  braying  out  Ha  ! 
ha  !  like  Mephistopheles  in  the  play  or  a  jackass  in 
a  corn-field,  and  asking,  "  What  the  devil  does  this 
mean  ? "  of  its  own  mother.  Indeed,  nothing  but  a 
blackened  column  or  a  negro  minstrel  could  do  such 
things  without  a  blush. 

Something  in  the  column's  tones — I  almost  said 
the  column's  base — recalled  to  Etna's  memory  the 
rude,  wicked,  blasphemous  man  who  said,  "  Dog- 
gone it !  "  to  her  grandfather,  and  left  dictionaries 
and  cyclopedias  lying  around  loose  on  the  grass  be- 
fore the  shop. 

She  could  hear  him  in  the  next  room,  talking  to 

9 


I3o  TREASURE-TROVE. 

his  mother.  He  called  her  "  ma  mere  "  (perhaps  the 
least  objectionable  way  in  which  he  could  dam  her) 
and  Etna  an  ancolyte,  prophesying  that  some  day 
the  latter  would  turn  up  non  est,  ditto  silver  forks, 
ditto  diamonds,  ditto  gold  spoons. 

Etna  all  this  while  felt  the  indignant  blood  burn- 
ing her  cheeks  ;  but  having  plenty  of  cheek  and  to 
spare,  she  simply  let  it  burn  on,  and  sat  and  heard 
the  conversation  through.  At  the  doubts  expressed 
of  her  honesty,  she  started  ;  for  she  remembered  the 
dictionaries  and  cyclopedias  of  the  smithy,  for  which 
she  had  never  endeavored  to  find  an  owner,  and  she 
wondered  whether  St.  Twel'mo  remembered  them  too. 
Feeling  rather  apprehensive  that  he  might  recognize 
them  if  they  fell  in  his  way,  she  determined  to  return 
them  in  the  morning. 

But  in  the  morning  an  unforeseen  accident  oc- 
curred. Going  out  on  the  lawn,  to  play  with  the  ele- 
phants, and  rhinoceroses,  and  pelicans,  a  huge  dog 
came  tearing  along,  and  after  biting  off  an  elephant's 
ear,  and  strangling  a  rhinoceros  or  two,  turned  on 
Etna. 

Faint  with  terror,  she  was  incapable  of  lifting  a 
hand  in  her  defense,  and  even  forgot  to  quote — the 
first  time  in  life  that  she  ever  missed  an  opportunity. 


ST.  TWEVMO.  I3i 

It  galled  her  afterwards  to  think  how  patly  she  could 
have  put  in  the  lines  of  Dr.  Watts,  beginning 

"  Let  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite  ; " 

but  the  circumstances  were  not  favorable  for  classic 
indulgences. 

Of  course  St.  Twel'mo  came  on  opportunely  and 
called  off  his  dog.  He  did  more,  he  picked  up  a 
club  and  belabored  the  dog,  which  howled,  and  St. 
Twel'mo  howled,  and  the  rhinoceros  bellowed,  while 
Etna,  fully  restored  to  a  sense  of  her  mission  in  life, 
mounted  a  stump  and  chanted  the  prayer  of  Habak- 
kuk  in  the  original  Hebrew,  so  that  altogether  they 
had  a  very  effective  quartet  and  quite  a  lively  and 
interesting  time  of  it. 

And  after  it  was  all  over,  and  St.  Twel'mo  had 
done  licking  the  dog,  the  dog,  probably  thinking  that 
one  good  turn  deserved  another,  turned  and  licked 
his  master's  feet,  which  gave  St.  Twel'mo  an  oppor- 
tunity to  cry  Ha  !  and  remark  that  that  was  the  way 
of  all  natures,  human  as  well  as  brute. 

Mem.  The  behavior  of  the  dog  in  thzjinakol  this 
matter  leads  me  to  the  inevitable  conclusion  that  it 
was  a  female  dog. 


i32  TREASURE-TROVE. 

I  mean  no  disrespect  to  the  sex  by  the  preceding 
annotation  ;  I  simply  mean  that  such  would  be  the 
logical  deduction  did  we  accept  the  heroines  of  most 
women's  novels  as  types  of  womanhood  at  large. 
For  here  was  St.  Twel'mo,  whose  face  was  blotted 
with  dissipation,  and  blackened  and  distorted  by 
baleful  fires,  and  who  looked  like  a  melancholy  mass 
of  ashy  arches  and  blackened  columns,  and  who  was 
always  damning  his  mother  and  his  sweethearts,  and 
crying  ha  !  to  them,  and  saying  par  parenthese,  and 
tar  excellence,  and  par  exemple,  and  par  nobile  fratrum, 
and  parbleu — 

(His  French  and  his  Latin  were  seldom  or  never 
above  par) — 

Yet  carrying  innumerable  female  scalps  at  his 
belt.  How  such  a  fellow  could  win  the  affections 
of  refined  and  cultivated  women,  I  cannot  under- 
stand. For  I  have  tried  original  verses,  and  pet 
names,  and  bouquets,  and  gentlemanly  behavior,  and 
the  sweet  influences  of  modest  and  unpretending 
merit,  all  in  vain. 

The  moral  that  women  with  "  intellect  into  them," 
can  be  best  won  by  pelting  them  with  vituperation 
and  junk-bottles  instead  of  with  bon-bons,  and  tell- 
ing them  to  go  to  the  devil  instead  of  to  Delmonico's 


ST.   TWELWTO. 


m 


where  any  thing  they  choose  to  fancy  in  the  way  of 
lunch  awaits  them,  I  do  not  believe,  and  do  here 
resolutely  refuse  to  accept,  though  all  the  authoresses 
in  Christendom  and  out  of  it  are  leagued  together  to 
persuade  me  to  the  contrary  ;  after  which  personal 
explanation  I  resume  the  thread  of  my  story. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HE  same  evening  Etna  determined  to  call 
at  St.  TweI'mo's  apartments — notwith- 
standing the  injunction  from  all  about 
the  house  that  she  must  never  cross  the  threshold  of 
his  room — and  return  the  dictionaries  and  cyclo- 
pedias. 

As  already  remarked,  it  was  the  evening  of  the 
day  on  which  the  encounter  with  the  dog  occurred. 
By  some  strange  fumbling  or  thimble-rigging  of  the 
planets,  Sirius  was  just  wagging  its  tail  in  the  eastern 
horizon,  when  Etna  knocked  at  the  terrible  doors. 

Was  it  an  omen  ?  Was  the  dog-star  indeed  to 
prove  the  star  of  her  destiny  ? 

Rat !  tat !  tat  1 

Etna  executed  the  long  roll  which  a  woman  beats, 
echoing  her  heart-taps,  when  in  doubt  as  to  the  pro- 
priety of  a  step,  but  has  already  determined  to  "  go 
in,"  cost  what  it  may. 

"  Come  in !  " 


ST.  TWEVMO.  13S 

The  voice  was  gruff  as  that  of  the  wolf  in  reply  to 
Red  Riding  Hood's  tattoo. 

She  opened  the  door  and  waited  for  a  second  in- 
vitation.    It  came. 

"  Come  in,  damn  you  !  "  growled  the  inmate,  blow- 
ing the  smoke  of  a  very  bad  cigar,  which  smelt  like 
brimstone,  in  scattered  spirals  to  the  vaulted  and 
fluted  ceiling. 

On  this  she  entered.  St.  Twel'mo  did  not  rise, 
and  the  tableau  was  a  peculiar  one.  There  sat  our 
hero,  gaunt  and  peculiar.  The  peculiarity  of  the 
gaunt  look  which  enveloped  him,  as  with  a  mantle, 
is  readily  enough  explained  when  we  consider  "  that 
for  nearly  fifteen  dreary  years,  nothing  but  jeers,  and 
oaths,  and  sarcasms,  had  crossed  his  finely  sculptured 
lips."  It  is  little  wonder  that  on  such  diet  he  had 
not  fleshed  up  much  ;  but  it  is  indeed  singular  that 
some  of  the  oaths  and  things  had  not  strangled  him. 

The  reflection  occurs  that  he  must  at  times  have 
felt  thirsty ;  but  perhaps,  like  the  lover  mentioned 
in  the  lyric,  he  drank  only  with  his  eyes.  A  hy- 
pothesis which  is  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  it 
was  out  from  his  glowing  gray  eyes  that  the  mocking 
demon  of  the  wine-cup  looked. 

But  to   resume.     On  his  swarthy   and  colorless 


136  TREASURE-TROVE. 

face,  midnight  orgies  and  habitual  excesses  had  left 
their  unmistakable  plague  spot,  and  Mephistopheles 
had  stamped  his  signet.  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
Etna's  love  fed  as  she  gazed,  and  that,  lost  in  con- 
templation of  the  pleasant  picture,  and  a  possibly 
bright  future  before  her,  she  wholly  forgot  the  errand 
which  brought  her  thither? 

"  What  the  devil  does  this  mean,  and  what  do 
you  want?"  growled  St.  Twel'mo.  "  Squattez 
vous  la,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  chair. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Etna  with  a  graceful 
courtesy,  "  I  only  come  to  return  some  books  I 
borrowed  of  you." 

And  turning  to  a  black  servant  who  stood  behind 
her  with  a  hand  cart,  she  bade  him  wheel  it  in. 

He  obeyed,  and  she  rapidly  began  to  unload  it  of 
dictionaries  and  cyclopedias.  With  a  sudden  ex- 
pression of  interest  in  his  countenance,  the  master  of 
the  apartment  rose  from  his  gracefully  recumbent 
position  and  approached  her. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Great  Horned  Dromedary 
of  Eblis,  whose  hump,  bright  with  the  glitter  of 
eternal  snows,  gleams  across  the  northern  horizon 
at  midnight,  and  is  mistaken  by  sciolists  and  the 
half-educated  idiots,  who  at  that   time  burnt  expen- 


ST.  TWEUMO. 


137 


sive  kerosene  in  a  vain  attempt  to  review  books 
which  they  can  not  understand,  for  the  aurora 
borealis — the  origin  of  which  phenomenon  I  have 
not  time  just  now  to  explain — tell  me  what  is  this 
mystery  ?  " 

He  took  the  huge  volume  "  mechanically" — that 
is  by  the  aid  of  a  derrick,  which  was  rigged  up  at 
that  end  of  the  apartment,  and  his  stern  swarthy 
face  lighted  up  joyfully. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  my  dear  Unabridged  !  the  very 
copy  that  has  travelled  round  the  world  in  my  vest 
pocket,  and  without  which  I  was  lost.  Can  it  be  ? 
Tell  me,  girl,  where  did  you  get  it  ?" 

She  explained  the  circumstances  as  well  as  she 
could.  But  lost  in  rapture  as  he  rapidly  turned  over 
its  well-thumbed  pages,  he  bade  no  heed  to  her 
words. 

Suddenly  his  brow  darkened,  his  eye  flashed,  and 
his  nostrils  dilated,  as  turning  to  her  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  he  roared  : 

"  Damnation !  you  have  stolen  all  the  big  words 
out  of  it  !  Bithus  contra  Bacchium !  Get  out  of 
this  I" 

Sorrowfully  thinking  what  a  pity  it  was  that  such 
a  noble  intellect,  and  such  an  ornament  to  society 


138  TREASURE-TROVE. 

should  be  lost  to  the  world,  Etna  turned  and  left 
the  apartment. 

As  she  turned  a  corner  in  the  corridor,  St.  Twel'mo, 
with  a  Dutch  oath,  which  unfortunately  she  could 
not  understand,  hurled  the  dictionary  at  her ;  miss- 
ing her  fragile  form,  it  struck  a  plaster  bust  of  Lord 
Chesterfield  which  stood  in  range,  inflicting  several 
compound  fractures  which  no  plaster  could  mend. 
The  back  of  the  book  was  also  bust.  Cyclopedias 
and  yellow-covered  novels  came  hurling  after.  Safe 
in  the  sanctuary  of  a  convenient  closet,  Etna  dropped 
upon  her  knees  and  softly  murmured,  "  Who  smote 
the  marble  gods  of  Greece  ?  " 

St.  Twel'mo  howling  his  favorite  slogans,  Bithus 
contra  Bacchium  and  Chacun  a  son  gofit,  rushed  into 
his  solitary  apartments,  slammed  the  doors  behind 
him,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  in  horrible  dissi- 
pation over  a  small  Jenkins's  Vest  Pocket  Dictionary, 
but  it  consoled  him  not  for  the  loss  of  his  Un- 
abridged. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

,TNA'S  curiosity  was  awakened  by  the 
glimpse  she  had  obtained  of  bachelor 
quarters,  and  she  determined  to  explore 
them  at  her  leisure,  immediately  an  opportunity 
offered. 

She  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  next  day  St. 
Twel'mo  mounted  his  horse  and  galloped  over  to 
Chattanooga  to  purchase  a  spelling  book,  for  which 
he  had  need  in  writing  a  business  letter  to  a  greasy 
mechanic  who  had  agreed  to  construct  a  hydraulic 
ram  on  the  premises  for  the  benefit  of  the  Merino 
sheep,  and  Cashmere  goats — the  poor  creatures  suf- 
fered sadly  from  want  of  an  adequate  supply  of  water. 

No  sooner  had  the  echoing  tramp  of  his  horse's 
hoofs  died  away  in  the  distance,  than  Etna  installed 
herself  in  the  vacant  rooms,  and  made  herself  per- 
fectly at  home. 

Indeed  St.  Twel'mo's  apartments  were  curiously 
furnished.  In  lieu  of  sofas,  and  ottomans,  and 
Turkish  chairs,  and  meerschaums,  and  spittoons,  and 


i  4o  TREA  SURE-TRO  VE. 

photograph  albums,  and  coal-scuttles,  and  hand- 
somely bound  copies  of  Liffith  Lank,  and  The  Jump- 
ing Frog,  and  boxing-gloves,  and  foils,  and  cheese- 
toasters,  and  tailors'  bills,  and  old  boots,  and 
embroidered  slippers,  and  dressing-gowns,  and  cigar- 
stumps,  and  soda  water,  and  empty  bottles,  and 
portraits  of  popular  actresses,  and  other  things  that 
men's  rooms  are  generally  full  of,  she  found  only  old 
vases  and  antique  jars — family  jars — of  no  possible 
use,  not  even  to  "  sit  down  "  on  ;  and  cameos,  and 
cameras,  and  intaglios,  and  entanglements,  and  pro- 
spectuses of  new  gas  companies  for  supplying  the 
pyramids  with  cheap  light,  and  Turcoman  cimetars 
— croocked  as  rams'  horns — Bedouin  lances,  Bowie 
knives,  flint-lock  muskets,  and  other  queer  weapons 
which  afterwards  contributed  so  largely  to  the  arma- 
ment of  the  Confederate  forces.  Besides,  there  was 
an  astonishing  pile  of  cyclopedias,  dictionaries,  lan- 
guages without  masters  and  masters  without  lan- 
guages, a  volume  entitled  A  Thousand  Things  Worth 
Knowing,  and  a  whole  library  which  might  have 
been  labelled,  not  Worth  Knowing  !  More  things,  in 
fact,  were  in  these  bachelor's  quarters — he  never  did 
things  by  halves — than  Horatio  or  even  the  fanciful 
Philes  ever  dreamed  of  in  their  Philosophies. 


ST.  TWEVMO.  141 

But  what  most  attracted  Etna's  attention  was  one 
of  those  mysterious  contrivances  known  as  a  "  Her- 
ring's Safe,"  whether  because  a  herring  in  them  is  safe 
from  roasting  or  sure  to  be  done  to  a  turn,  no  philolo- 
gist has  yet  proclaimed.  It  was  modeled  after  a 
miracle  of  Saracenic  architecture,  and  had  a  lock 
which  defied  gunpowder,  and  extemporized  keys 
made  of  crooked  nails  ;  the  door  was  painted  to 
resemble  live  oak,  but  the  inscription  thereon  was 
written  in  a  dead  language. 

Etna  would  have  liked  to  know  what  the  thing  con- 
tained, but  the  combination-lock  refused  to  respond 
to  the  pass-keys  she  carried  about  her,  and  all  her 
blind  fumbling  at  the  mystic  key-hole  proved  of  no 
avail. 

She  sighed  and  wished  that  her  grandfather  was 
around  with  his  sledge-hammer. 

As  she  turned  away  and  retraced  her  steps  among 
the  costly  bizarrerie  it  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that 
no  light  childish  feet  had  ever  pattered  down  the 
long  rows  of  shining  tiles,  and  she  suddenly  thought 
"  What  a  pity,  oh  !  if " 

(Why  do  such  things  always  occur  to  women  when 
men  never  think  of  them  ?) 

And  then,  with  a  sorrowful  sigh,  she  sought  her 


143  TREASURE-TROVE. 

own  apartment.  Her  dreams  that  night  were  of 
wedding  favors — sometimes  written  "  fevers  "  by  the 
illiterate — and  the  altar  assumed  the  shape  of  a 
burglar  and  fire-proof  safe. 

Pressing  her  lips  closely  to  the  open  end  of  the 
bolster,  under  the  natural  but  mistaken  impression 
that  it  was  the  happy  bridegroom's  ear,  she  whis- 
pered softly,  "  Ducky,  deaiy,  what  on  earth  do  you 
keep  in  that  big  iron  bandbox  ? " 


W 


CHAPTER  VII. 

O  the  days  wore  on  at  Le  Beaucage — and 
that  every  thing  did  not  wear  out  was 
very  strange  indeed  And  Etna  progressed 
in  knowledge.  In  company  with  a  fine  and  eru- 
dite old  clergyman,  named  Gammon,  she  committed 
to  memory  nearly  all  the  books  which  no  gentleman's 
library  should  be  without,  all  the  quotable  passages 
in  Diodorus,  Tupper,  Owen  Meredith,  Mark  Twain, 
Plutarch,  John  Ruskin,  Charles  Algernon  Swinburne, 
Thucydides,  and  Walt  Whitman.  For  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  go  forth  and  face  the  world — out- 
face it,  if  necessary. 

The  only  subject  on  which  there  was  not  full 
sympathy  and  perfect  communion  between  Etna  and 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Gammon  was  that  mauvais  sujet,  St. 
Twel'mo.  Etna  feared  that  her  tutor  did  not  love 
her  hero,  and  one  day  asked  him  how  ?  and  if  not, 
wherefore  ?  The  reverend  gentleman  clasped  his 
hands  and  declared  that  he  loved  St.  Twel'mo 
as  well   as    his    own    life,    if  not  better.    At  first 


144  TREASURE-TROVE. 

Etna  would  not  believe  this  declaration,  but 
when  she  learned  that  St.  Twel'mo  had  murdered  a 
couple  of  the  clergyman's  children,  she  gave  it 
implicit  credence.  For  she  herself  had  not  been 
entreated  over  and  above  well  at  his  hands,  and  the 
seething  of  love  in  her  own  heart  in  consequence 
convinced  her  that  some  pork  would  boil  so — pardon 
the  homeliness  of  the  proverb. 

If  I  have  until  now  forgotten  to  mention  one  pe- 
culiarity about  St.  Twel'mo,  let  me  at  once  remedy 
the  omission.  He  was  wonderfully  fond  of  travel, 
the  result,  perhaps,  of  his  pedigree.  For  his  father, 
also  named  Murray,  was  none  other  than  the  illus- 
trious author  of  those  guide  books,  so  familiar  and 
famous  all  Europe  through.  The  mistaken  impres- 
sion which  obtained  on  some  sides,  that  he  was  de- 
scended from  Lindley  Murray,  St.  Twel'mo  de- 
nounced with  disdain,  proudly  boasting  that  there  was 
never  a  grammarian  in  the  family — a  fact  too  patent 
to  be  gainsaid  by  any. 

Impatient  of  home  and  never  at  rest,  his  footsteps 
had  sounded  among  the  steppes  of  Tartary  ;  Arabs 
on  the  great  desert  were  acquainted  with  his  war-cry 
of  Bithus  contra  Bacchium ;  Fejee  chieftains,  while 
breakfasting    on  underdone    missionary,  had  been 


ST.  TWEVMO.  145 

made  familiar  with  his  favorite  apophthegm,  Chacun 
h  son  go&t.  As  an  explorer  of  equatorial  Africa,  he 
divided  the  honors  with  Du  Chaillu,  and  was  certain- 
ly entitled  to  the  odd  trick,  for  it  could  not  be  denied 
that  he  brought  home  with  him  more  of  the  habits 
and  manners  of  the  gorillas  than  Du  Chailla  did.  In 
short,  there  was  only  one  spot  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  which  he  had  not  visited — that  was  the  State 
of  New-Jersey.  And  one  morning,  at  the  breakfast 
table,  he  announced  to  his  mother  his  intention  of 
making  a  journey  thither.  With  a  wild  shriek,  she 
dropped  the  tea-pot  from  her  hand,  and  was  carried 
away  from  the  table  upon  the  tray. 

Without  minding  the  old  lady  at  all,  he  strode  out 
to  the  stable,  ordered  his  horse  saddled  and  some 
pork  and  hominy  packed  up,  and  galloped  away. 

After   galloping  as   far  as   the  gate,   he   paused 

turned   and  beckoned    to  Etna.      She  approached 

him.     Drawing  a  huge  key  from  his  pocket,  he  told 

her  that  it  belonged  to  the  big  safe — he  called  it  Taj 

Mahal,  which  is  Dutch  for  Red  Herring — informed 

her  that  the  safe  contained  papers  of  no  value  to 

any  une  but  the  owner,  and  of  very  little  to   him, 

and  that   he    intended    to   intrust   the   key   to   her 

care.     But  he  forbade  her  opening  it  unless  he  was 

10 


146  TREASURE-TROVE- 

four  years  absent,  in  which  event  she  might  conclude 
that  he  had  been  elected  governor  and  would  never 
more  return. 

Etna  pertinently  remarked  that  if  she  was  not  al- 
lowed to  use  the  safe  to  keep  her  chignon,  and  hair- 
pins, and  pearl-powder  in,  she  didn't  see  what  use 
there  was  in  leaving  her  the  key  ;  but  fir.aiiy  con- 
sented to  accept  the  trust,  sagely  saying  to  herself 
that  very  possibly  it  might  turn  to  some  account. 

He  plunged  spurs  in  his  horse  and  was  gone. 

Etna  at  once  returned  to  the  house  and  examined 
the  safe.  A  small  spider  had  crawled  into  the  key- 
hole, and  thinking  he  might  injure  the  lock,  she  put 
in  the  key  and  turned  it  gently,  to  drive  him  out. 
She  was  afraid  that  the  door  might  accidentally 
open  ;  but  no — the  bolt  was  rusty  and  refused  to 
stir ;  for  fifteen  years  it  had  known  no  other  assuage- 
ment of  fiction  than  oaths,  and  jeers,  and  sarcasms 
— in  which  respect  it  resembled  St.  Twel'mo's  lips. 

After  turning  for  an  hour  or  two,  she  finally  turned 
away,  and  buried  herself  in  a  reprint  of  the  Bhagvat- 
Geeta,  just  republished  by  Philes.  The  Targum 
had  hitherto  been  her  pabulum  during  solitary  mo- 
ments, but  she  had  chewed  upon  it  so  long  that  she 
desired  a  change. 


ST.   T IV ELMO.  147 

Suddenly  she  was  recalled  from  the  delicious 
dialogues  of  Kreeshna  and  Arjoon  by  a  mellow 
voice  under  the  window,  singing : 

"  I  will  chase  the  elephant  over  the  plain, 
The  rhinoceros  I'll  bind  with  a  chain, 
And  the  hippopotamus,  with  his  silvery  feet, 
I'll  give  thee  for  a  playmate  sweet." 

Approaching  the  window,  she  recognized  Gordon 
Lee,  a  distant  relative  of  the  general  of  that  name 
who  was  lately  presented  with  a  pair  of  game-cocks. 
He  addressed  her  a  few  words  in  Greek,  to  which 
she  coyly  replied  in  Coptic.  After  this  cheerful 
interchange  of  greetings,  she  went  down  and  sat  with 
him  in  the  bear-garden  in  front  of  the  house.  They 
talked  of  megatheriums,  acephala,  mastodons,  cubic 
roots,  rhomboids,  and  cognate  ideas  that  the  youth- 
ful imagination  gererally  runs  riot  with  of  moonlight 
evenings. 

Gordon  was  a  handsome  young  fellow,  well  born, 
well  educated,  and  of  good  connections — though  he 
missed  some  of  them  when  the  gun-boats  were  re- 
ported as  steaming  down  the  river.  Courteous  to 
his  equals  and  kind  to  his  inferiors,  he  was  a  general 
favorite  in  Chattanooga.     Etna,  and  he  had  studied 


148  TREASURE-TROVE. 

the  Sanskrit  together,  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel 
Gammon,  (who,  like  many  others  of  the  cloth,  was 
familiar  with  most  languages  except  English,)  and 
latterly  they  had  been  deep  in  a  translation  of  the 
Manavad-harmasastra,  each  trying  to  distance  the 
other,  but  so  far  it  had  been  a  tie  between  them. 
Now  the  tie  was  all  on  Gordon's  side,  and  so  difficult 
a  one  was  it  to  undo  that  it  might  be  called  a  Gor- 
dian  knot.  He  was  in  love  with  Etna,  and  had 
wooed  her  in  Chinese,  Cufic,  Hebrew,  and  Massa- 
chusetts French,  but  without  effect.  Unfortunately 
for  the  success  of  his  suit,,  he  was  not  scorched  by 
baleful  fires,  nor  blotted  by  dissipation,  and  didn't 
look,  like  a  ruined  temple,  nor  a  dilapidated  tar-kiln, 
nor  a  melancholy  mass  of  ashy  arches,  and  charcoal 
pits,  and  whisky  cock-tails.  Besides,  he  was  neat 
in  his  dress  and  respectful  to  his  mother,  and  didn't 
quote  and  swear.  Had  he  ever  seduced  a  woman, 
or  shot  a  man,  or  even  robbed  a  contribution-box, 
there  might  have  been  some  chance  for  him  j  but  as 
it  was,  his  case  was  hopeless. 

This  evening  the  moon  was  mellow  and  so  was 
Gordon  ;  for  the  one  had  filled  her  horns  and  the 
other  had  emptied  his.  Under  these  conditions  and 
combinations  lie  had  more  courage  than  usual,    and 


ST.  TWEVMO.  1 49 

skillfully  turned  the  conversation  upon  trilobites — 
though  musquito  bites  would  have  been  more 
apropos  to  the  season — as  a  neat  way  of  approaching 
the  subject  which  was  nearest  his  heart.  He  had 
found  one  of  rare  beauty  during  the  day,  and 
begged  her  acceptance  of  it ;  but  she  declined  on 
the  plea  that  there  was  no  vacancy  in  her  cabinet. 
He  then  besought  her  acceptance  of  a  ring,  taking  a 
California  diamond  of  fabulous  value — wholly  fabu- 
lous— from  his  pocket. 

"  It  is  beautiful  in  this  light,"  he  said,  holding  it 
up  to  the  stars,  "  how  it  glistens  ;  do  you  see  it  ? " 

"  Alas  !  no,  not  in  those  lamps,"  she  replied,  and 
though  she  finally  consented  to  accept  the  ring,  she 
gave  him  definitely  to  understand  that  he  was 
out  of  it. 

On  returning  to  the  house  Etna  looked  as  though 
she  had  been  doing  something  foolish,  and  Mrs. 
Murray  divined  the  truth.  "  How  could  you  ?  "  she 
cried.  "  A  young  man  of  excellent  principles, 
sound  religious  convictions,  five  hundred  niggers,  not 
counting  piccaninnies,  and  raising  rather  more  than 
a  bale  to  the  acre  !  How  could  you  be  so  foolish,  and 
so  cruel ? " 

"  Alas  !  mamma,"  sobbed  Etna,  hiding  her  face  on 


1 5o  TREASURE-TROVE. 

Mrs.  Murray's  bosom,  "  he  mispronounced  a  Greek 
quantity." 

And  Mrs.  Murray,  who  knew  how  sensitive  the 
child  was  on  such  points,  but  did  not  dream  that  a 
deeper  reason  underlay  the  refusal,  forgave  at  once, 
and  comforted  her  with  the  hope  that  one  of  the 
Harvard  professors  might  yet  happen  that  way,  and 
she  could  have  a  husband  to  her  liking. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FTER  learning  that  Gordon  Lee  was 
spoony  on  her,  it  became  manifestly 
necessary  that  they  should  no  longer 
study  together.  Geometry  must  specially  be  given 
up  as  tending  to  excite  the  blood,  and  there  was  no 
telling  even  what  trouble  might  be  Hebrewing  if 
they  met  upon  the  plains  of  that  primitive  lan- 
guage. 

Suddenly  a  brillant  idea  occurred  to  Etna.  She 
would  be  an  authoress.  She  would  elevate  her  sex, 
she  would  write  essays,  poetry,  tales,  novels.  There 
were  no  bounds  to  her  ambition.  Clasping  her 
hands — in  default  of  any  one  else's  a  woman  is  apt 
to  clasp  her  own — she  cried,  "  To  what  may  I  not  in 
time  aspire  ?  Even  Godey's  Lady's  Book  is  not  be- 
yond my  reach  ! " 

Down  there  the  ladies  add  a  syllable  to  the  favorite 
oath  of  the  sterner  sex,  and  swear  by  Godey.  It  is 
so  easy  to  understand,  and  has  so  many  pretty 
pictures. 


152  TREASURE-TROVE. 

"  Yes,"  mused  Etna,  "  the  true  end  and  aim 
of  woman's  life  should  be  to  write  a  novel"     And 

■ 

immediately  she  seated  herself  at  her  escritoire,  and 
wrote  to  all  the  editors  in  New- York,  Boston,  and 
Philadelphia,  inclosing  to  each  a  few  hundred  pages 
of  ms.,  and  requesting  an  insertion  in  their  next 
numbers. 

Pending  replies,  St.  Twel'mo  came  home. 

The  first  question  he  asked — before  even  swear- 
ing at  his  mother — was  of  Etna. 

"  Have  you  opened  the  Taj  Mahal  ? " 

"  No,"  she  replied. 

Of  course  he  intimated  with  his  usual  courtesy  that 
she  lied,  and  dragged  her  off  to  the  library. 

She  stood  trembling  while  he  fumbled  at  the 
keyhole-  "  I  know  you  have  opened  the  door,"  he 
exclaimed;  "but  we  will  see."  Another  spider  has 
been  at  work ;  with  one  sweep  of  his  powerful  arm 
he  scattered  the  web  to  the  winds.  "  If  you  have 
not  opened  it,  there  will  be  an  explosion,"  he  said. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  there  would  also  be  an 
explosion  if  she  had  ;  but  she  stood  her  ground  with 
the  calmness  befitting  one  who. aspired  to  period- 
ical, and  was  not  afraid  of  magazine. 

He  swung  the  door  open  and  a  columbiad  was 


ST.  TWEL'MO.  153 

discharged,  belching  forth  its  fire  and  smoke  into 
the  room,  hoisting  St.  Twel'mo  and  Etna  to  the 
ceiling,  to  the  dislocation  of  the  latter's  waterfall,  and 
so  startling  her  that  for  the  second  time  in  life,  she 
quailed  instead  of  quoting. 

St.  Twel'mo  was  so  surprised  to  find  that  the 
door  had  not  been  opened  in  his  absence  to  the  igni- 
tion of  his  infernal  machine,  and  that  Etna  was 
alive,  and  he  was  alive,  and  there  was  nothing  dead 
in  the  room  but  a  few  languages,  that  he  pulled  from 
his  finger  a  ring,  engrossed  with  a  Chaldaic  charac- 
ter, and  insisted  upon  her  acceptance  of  it. 

Etna's  eyes  glistened  as  she  gazed  upon  the  jewel 
and  recognized  the  talismanic  sign  it  bore. 

But  other  visions  unfolded  themselves  to  her.  Be- 
yond blazed  the  torch,  that  ignis  fatuns  which  has 
led  so  many  up  the  steep  and  winding  stairs  of  the 
great  white  fane  in  Franklin  Square,  to  find  no  rest 
for  their  feet,  nor  acceptance  of  their  handiwork 
when  their  story  reached  that  third  story,  known 
as  the  Aisle  of  Guernsey.  And  over  a  distant  frog 
pond  stood  the  nebulous 


i54  TREASURE-TROVE. 

familiar  to  all  who  have  sought  the  Philosopher's 
Tone,  and  hateful  to  those  who  have  found  it  not. 
And  she  determined  not  to  be  in  a  hurry  about 
accepting  any  thing. 

With  an  angry  hand  he  dashed  the 


into  the  grate.  "  The  badge  of  my  race,"  he  said  ; 
"it  will  be  quite  at  home  among  the  congenial 
flames — there  at  least  it  will  be  red.  Many  a  stout 
Twel'mo  has  had  the  same  grate  circulation,"  and 
he  laughed  savagely. 

With  the  glare  of  the  grate  in  his  face  and  its 
smoke  in  his  hair,  he  looked  so  supernaturally  ugly 
and  so  unusually  wicked,  that  Etna's  heart  warmed 
toward  him,  and  she  hung  out  that  light  in  her  eyes 
which  all  the  world  over  is  accepted  and  recognized 
as  the  signal  for  a  flirtation.  This  was  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening. 

About  nine  o'clock,  two  hours  later,  the  affair  was 
progressing  as  follows — St.  Twel'mo  loquitur : 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  remind  you,"  he  said,  "  of  the 
preliminary  and  courteous  en  garde  /  which  should 
be    pronounced    before  a    thrust.     De   Guerin   felt 


ST.  TWEVMO.  155 

starved  in  Languedoc,  and  no  wonder!  But  had 
he  penetrated  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  habit- 
able globe  and  traversed  the  Zaharas  which  science 
accords  the  universe,  he  would  have  died  at  last  as 
hungry  as  Ugolino.  I  speak  advisedly,  for  the  true 
Io  gadfly  ennui  has  stung  me  from  hemisphere  to 
hemisphere,  across  tempestuous  oceans,  scorching 
deserts,  and  icy  mountain  ranges.  I  have  faced 
alike  the  bourrans  of  the  steppes  and  the  Samieli  of 
Shamo,  and  the  result  of  my  vandal  life  is  best 
epitomized  in  those  grand  but  grim  words  of  Bossuet: 
'  On  trouve  au  fond  de  tout  le  vide  et  le  neant.'  Nine- 
teen years  ago,  to  satisfy  my  hunger,  I  set  out  to 
hunt  the  daintiest  food  this  world  would  furnish,  and, 
like  other  fools,  have  learned  finally,  that  life  is  but 
a  huge  mellow  golden  Osher,  (short  for  pumpkin,) 
that  mockingly  sifts  its  bitter  dust  upon  our  eager 
lips.  Ah  !  truly,  On  trouve  au  fond  de  tout  le  vide  et 
le  niant?"  Etna  promptly  made  answer  to  this 
sprightly  little  sally  :  "  Mr.  Murray,  if  you  insist 
upon  your  bitter  Osher  simile,  why  shut  your  eyes  to 
the  palpable  analogy  suggested  ?  Naturalists  assert 
that  the  Solanum,  or  apple  of  Sodom,  contains  in 
its  normal  state  neither  dust  nor  ashes,  unless  it  is 
punctured    by    an    insect,    (the    Tenthredo, )  which 


1 5  6  TREASURE-  TRO  VE. 

converts  the  whole  of  the  inside  into  dust,  leaving 
nothing  but  the  rind  entire,  without  any  loss  of 
color.  Human  life  is  as  fair  and  tempting  as  the 
fruit  of  Ain  Jidy,  till  stung  and  poisoned  by  the 
Tenthredo  of  sin." 

"Will  you  favor  me,"  he  replied,  "by  lifting  on 
the  point  of  your  dissecting-knife  this  stinging  sin  of 
mine  to  which  you  refer  ?  The  noxious  brood  swarm 
so  teasingly  about  my  ears  that  they  deprive  me  of 
your  cool,  clear,  philosophic  discrimination.  Which 
particular  Tenthredo  of  the  buzzing  swarm  around 
my  spoiled  apple  of  life  would  you  advise  me  to 
select  for  my  anathema  maranatha  ?  " 

(At  this  point  the  servant  girl,  who  was  dusting 
the  drawers  with  a  peacock's  tail,  looked  around ; 
for  her  name  was  Anna  Maria,  and  she  thought  she 
was  called.) 

"  Of  your  history,  sir,"  returned  Etna,  "  I  am 
entirely  ignorant !  and  even  if  I  were  not,  I  should 
not  presume  to  levy  a  tax  upon  it  in  discussions  with 
you  ;  for  however  vulnerable  you  may  possibly  be,  I 
regard  an  argumentwn  ad  hominem  (here  the  servant 
girl,  thinking  that  hominy  was  meant  and  mentioned, 
brightened  up  and  put  on  an  intelligent  look)  as  the 


ST.  TWEUMO.  157 

weakest  weapon  in  the  army  of  dialectics — a  weapon 


too- 


But  that  will  do  for  the  present.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  this  thing  went  on  for  two  hours  more,  and  that 
a  full  report  of  the  speeches  would  occupy  twenty 
pages  o£  foolscap,  and  could  only  be  made  tolerable 
by  an  accompanying  jingle  of  as  many  bells.  When 
the  little  coquetterie  ended  at  a  time  for  putting  out 
the  lights,  both  sat  asleep  in  their  respective  chairs 
whispering  big  words  in  each  other's  ears  from  sheer 
force  of  habit. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

T.  TWEL'MO  was  a  decidedly  original 
wooer.  Like  an  Indian  chief,  the  mo- 
ment he  set  out  on  the  war  path  he  began 
to  recount  how  many  scalps  he  had  previously  taken. 
Thus,  cornering  Etna  in  a  church  one  evening, 
while  she  was  practicing,  in  preparation  for  the  next 
Sunday,  upon  the  hand  organ,  which  did  duty  in 
lieu  of  a  larger  wind  instrument,  he  breathed  a  soft 
confession  into  her  ear. 

Printed,  I  am  aware  that  it  will  read  very  much 
like  a  page  from  the  Newgate  Calendar. 

It  seemed  that  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gammon  had 
cut  him  out  with  the  daughter  of  another  clergyman, 
by  wearing  higher  shirt  collars  and  indulging  more 
lavishly  in  pomatums  and  macassar.  A  challenge 
passed  between  them,  and  St.  Twel'mo  killed  his 
antagonist  at  the  first  fire. 

Thenceforth  his  cai  eer  was  a  strange  one,  and  its 


ST.  TWEVMO.  159 

recital  must  have  been  edifying  to  Etna's  ears.  He 
seduced  every  "  brilliant  and  accomplished  woman  " 
that  the  village  of  Chattanooga  and  the  surrounding 
swamps  contained,  "winning  her  love  and  then 
leaving  her  a  target  for  the  laughter  of  her  circle  " — 
to  be  blasted,  as  it  were,  by  blow-guns.  This  he  told 
his  sweetheart.  "  One  of  the  fairest  faces  that  ever 
brightened  the  haunts  of  fashion — a  queenly,  elegant 
girl — the  pet  of  her  family  and  of  society,"  he  seduced 
and  reduced  to  a  melancholy  mass  of  ashy  arches  and 
things  somewhat  a-kiln  to  himself.  At  the  time  that 
he  told  this  story,  she  was  "  wearing  serge  garments" 
in  an  Italian  convent.  Serge  was  her  life !  St. 
Twel'mo  was  wearing  spurred-boots  the  while,  and  tell- 
ing these  tales  to  his  sweetheart. 

But  the  exploit  on  which  he  most  prided  himself, 

the  one  he  "  norated  "  with  the  greatest  zest,  assuming 

the  half-deprecating  air  of  those  excessively  virtuous 

persons  who  "  do  good  by  stealth  and  blush  to  find 

it  fame,"  was  as  follows.     The  scene  occured  at  the 

parsonage,  and  I  allow  St.  Twel'mo  to  tell  the  story 
in  his  own  words  : 

"  During  one  terribly  fatal  winter,  scarlet  fever  had 
deprived  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gammon  of  four  children, 
(St.  Twel'mo  and  scarlet  fever  seem  to  have  run  in 


160  TREASURE-TROVE. 

the  family,)  leaving  him  an  only  daughter,  Annie,  the 
image  of  her  brother,  (the  brother  whom  he  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  kill.)  Her  health  was  feeble ; 
consumption  was  stretching  its  skeleton  hands 
toward  her,  and  her  father  watched  her  as  a  gardener 
tends  his  pet,  choice,  delicate  exotic.  She  was  about 
sixteen,  very  pretty,  very  attractive.  After  her 
brother's  death,  I  never  spoke  to  Mr.  Gammon, 
never  crossed  his  path  ;  but  I  met  his  daughter  with- 
out his  knowledge,  and  finally  I  made  her  confess 
her  love  for  me.  I  offered  her  my  hand  ;  she  ac- 
cepted it.  A  day  was  appointed  for  an  elopement 
and  marriage;  the  hour  came;  she  left  the  parson- 
age, but  I  did  not  meet  her  here  on  the  steps  of  this 
church  as  I  had  promised,  and  she  received  a  note, 
full  of  scorn  and  derision,  explaining  the  revengeful 
motives  that  had  actuated  me.  Two  hours  later, 
her  father  found  her  insensible  on  the  steps,  (she 
could  scarcely  have  been  sensible  when  she  took  the 
step,)  and  the  marble  was  dripping  with  a  hemorrhage 
of  blood  (alas  !  that  it  was  of  blood)  from  her  lungs. 
The  dark  stain  is  still  there ;  you  must  have  noticed 
it.  I  never  saw  her  again.  She  kept  her  room 
(better  it  must  have  been  than  St.Twel'mo's  company) 
from  that  day,  and  died  three  months  after.     When 


ST.   rWEVMO.  161 

on  her  death-bed  she  sent  for  me,  but  I  refused  to 
obey  the  summons." 

The  story  of  our  hero's  loves  and  triumphs  by  no 
means  ended  here  ;  but  sufficient  for  this  day  is  the 
evil  thereof.  Ex  prde  Herculem — it  is  not  expedient 
to  prolong  the  agonies  ;  the  devil,  quite  as  well  as 
Hercules,  maybe  recognized  by  a  single  hoof. 

The  only  wonder  is  that  Etna  had  not  married,  out 
of  hand,  this  chivalric  Chattanoogian,  who  selected 
consumptive  little  girls,  whom  even  the  scarlet  fever 
and  the  measles  spared,  for  victims — having  first 
killed  off  their  big  brothers — who  told  over  his  adul 
teries  as  a  monk  might  his  beads,  and  as  little  blushed 
in  telling  them. 

Seducing  the  sister,  by  way  of  getting  even  with 
her  brother,  certainly  commends  itself  as  an  original 
enterprise,  which  should  have  stirred  the  depths  of  a 
refined  and  cultivated  woman,  emulous  of  elevating 
her  kind  by  writing  for  the  fashion  magazines,  to  love 
and  admiration.  However,  Etna  declined  the  honor 
of  a  betrothal.  It  may  have  been  that  she  was  not 
ambitious  of  being  set  up  as  a  target,  etc.,  or  wear- 
ing serge  garments,  etc.,  and  early  habits  may  have 
led  her  to  object  to  even  the  remote  possibility  of 

being  smothered  with  a  pillow.     At  all  events,  she 

1 1 


1 62  TREASURE-TROVE. 

said  No,  though  she  felt  in  her  own  heart  that  she 
loved  him  more  than  ever. 

Oh,  the  feminine  bosom  !  is  it  not  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made  up ! 

Even  the  picture  of  the  apple-trees,  where  he  and 
his  "  idol  had  chatted,  and  romped,  and  whistled  in 
in  the  far  past  "  (think  of  that  idle  whistling  !)  failed 
to  move  her.  She  did  not  wish  to  incur  the  risk  of 
having  a  "  hemorrhage  of  blood"  and  besides,  am- 
bitious of  authorship,  she  was  determined  to  do  it  or 
die.     It  was  a  clear  case  of  noblesse  oblige. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HE  night  mail  brought  her  an   offer  of   a 
situation   as   nurse   in   a  rich  but   respect- 
able family  in  New-York,  and  replies  to 
her  letters  to  the  editors. 

The  Boston  Illuminati  wrote  that  they  did  not  think 
that  her  style  would  do  for  the  Atlantic — it  was 
scarcely  salt  enough  ;  Philadelphia,  speaking  through 
Godey,  replied  that  neither  her  essay  on  Ramayana, 
nor  her  very  elaborate  treatise  on  Comparative  An- 
atomy was  calculated  to  interest  lady  readers.  They 
were  declined  with  thanks — a  polite  editorial  phrase- 
which  may  always  be  interpreted  as  meaning  thanks 
that  there  is  no  more.  The  Harpers  wanted  practical 
articles  that  themselves  and  others  could  understand, 
without  foot-notes,  or  condensations  of  their  last 
published  books,  though  they  would  publish  extracts 


1 64  TREASURE-TROVE. 

frurn  her  more  serious  essays  in  the  Editor's  Drawer, 
at  the  usual  compensation  in  that  department. 

Seeing  a  gleam  of  hope  here,  Etna  telegraphed  to 
know  what  that  rate  was.  The  reply  came,  "  Noth- 
ing, and  pay  your  own  postage." 

But  there  was  one  ray  of  comfort.  A  new  maga- 
zine had  been  started,  and  its  proprietors  were 
pushing  it  vigorously — so  vigorously  that  they  nearly 
pushed  it  to  the  wall  in  the  first  year  of  its  existence. 
The  public  are  not  always  in  a  milky  and  watery  way, 
and  sometimes  crave  something  with  an  edge — 
meat-axy,  rather  than  any  other  "axy."  Hearing 
that  the  new  magazine  was  then  publishing  some 
story  by  A  trollop,  Etna  at  first  shrank  sensitively 
back  from  such  association,  but  finally  made  over- 
tures of  a  glorious  piece  on  favorable  terms,  inclosing 
to  it  an  essay,  "  Who  smote  the  marble  brow  of  Billy 
Patterson  ?  "  In  accordance  with  his  usual  custom 
the  editor  carried  it  home  and  read  it  to  his  wife,  his 
father-in-law,  his  maid-servant,  his  man-servant,  and 
the  stranger  that  was  within  his  gates.  Not  one  of 
them  being  able  to  understand  it,  they  unanimously 
voted  it  a  delightful  and  excellent  article,  especially 
"magaziny,"  whatever  that  may  mean;  and  Etna 
was  informed  that  it  would  appear  in  the  next  number 


ST.  TWEVMO.  ^5 

if  another  was  issued.  The  editor  added  that  it 
would  be  paid  for  at  the  regular  rate,  which  was 
$1.10  a  page. 

At  this  latter  clause  Etna  smiled  a  smile  of  love 
and  triumph  ;  "  For,"  she  said,  "  there  are  forty  pages, 
and  I  can  buy  a  new  dictionary  for  myself,  of  which 
I  stand  in  need,  and  a  New  Testament  for  St.  Twer- 
mo,  of  which  he  stands  in  need,  and  also" — 

But  her  countenance  fell  as  she  went  on  and  read 
that  they  paid  nothing  for  quotations,  which  would 
cut  her  article  down  to  something  less  than  three 
pages. 

She  sighed,  and  thought  how  hard  it  is  to  earn 
one's  living  by  one's  pen. 


CHAPTER  XL 

^TNA  went  to  New-York,  and  assumed 
her  duties  as  nurse.  It  is  recorded  of 
her  that  she  made  a  very  dry  nurse  indeed. 

Two  children  were  entrusted  to  her  care  ;  one  a 
babe  at  the  breast ;  the  other  a  precocious  little  fel- 
low, with  a  weak  back,  named  Felix. 

The  children  made  astonishing  progress  under  her 
tuition.  The  baby  spoke  an  unintelligible  tongue 
before  it  was  weaned,  and  Felix  was  well  up  in  Hebrew 
before  the  first  six  months  were  ended.  Felix,  how- 
ever, though  very  proud  of  the  language,  remarked 
that  he  didn't  like  the  prayer  of  Habakkuk,  or,  as 
he  pronounced  it,  "  A  back  ache." 

Her  manner  of  instilling  knowledge  into  the  young 
mind  was  original  and  peculiar  to  herself.  She  en- 
couraged them  to  ask  questions  which  no  one  could 
answer,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  telling  them 
something  that  they  didn't  know,  and  ought  not  to. 


ST.   TWEVMO.  r67 

The  system  is  known  as  "  object  teaching,"  I  think. 
Thus  to  Felix  one  day,  "  No,  my  dear,  the  young 
oyster  does  not  derive  nourishment  in  the  same  way 
that  your  little  brother  does.  The  young  oyster  has 
a  mamma,  but  the  maternal  oyster  has  no  mamma" 

"  That  is  singular,"  cried  Felix. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  replied  Etna,  "  it  is  plural." 

"  This  is  a  great  deprivation,"  she  continued,  "  but 
the  meek  resignation  with  which  he  submits  to  the 
dispensation,  the  patience  with  which  he  blindly  fum- 
bles about  the  rocks  for  his  food,  should  teach  little 
boys  a  lesson. 

The  parents  of  the  children  voted  her  a  treasure, 
for  she  talked  the  children  to  sleep,  and  the  pare- 
goric and  soothing-syrup  account  dwindled  down  to 
a  merely  nominal  sum.  In  return,  they  allowed  her 
to  receive  as  many  calls  as  she  pleased,  provided 
she  herself  answered  the  bell. 

That  her  visits  were  not  those. of  angels  may  be 
inferred  from  the  number  •  they  were  neither  few 
nor  far  between.  Her  article  in  the  magazine  had 
sent  all  the  Galactophagists  to  their  dictionaries, 
and  they  could  not  find  more  than  half  the  words 
there.  In  consequence,  they  came  to  Etna  for  elu- 
cidation, but  she,  unfortunately,  had  forgotten  what 


1 68  TREASURE-TROVE. 

the  largest  ones  meant.  The  effect  of  Etna's  article 
was  such  that  the  magazine  in  which  it  appeared  was 
afterwards  published  only  once  in  two  months  instead 
of  twice  a  month  as  at  first,  which  was  a  vast  im- 
provement and  delighted  the  public  greatly.  All 
this  won  for  Etna  great  reputation,  and  finally  she 
had  an  offer  to  write  for  the  Ledger. 

Among  the  many  who  came  to  call,  came  an  editor 
with  a  "  granite  mouth." 

No,  it  was  not  Marble,  nor  yet  the  late  Dr.  Stone, 
and  the  reader  need  not  indulge  in  conjectures  as  to 
what  editor  it  may  be.  It  is  quite  enough  to  say  that 
he  wanted  to  marry  Etna — a  fact  which  at  once  estab- 
lishes him  as  a  man  of  determination  and  daring. 

Etna  refused  him.  No  one  could  guess  why,  for 
he  owned  a  paper  of  his  own,  and  was  in  a  fair  way 
of  obtaining  a  foreign  mission,  as  his  party,  then  in 
power,  had  long  been  looking  for  a  pretext  to  get  him 
out  of  the  country.*  When  asked  the  reason  of  her 
refusing  so  eligible  an  offer,  Etna  replied  it  was  his 
granite  month;  she  did  not  like  the  formation. 

Indeed,  she  had  no  end  of  offers.  An  English 
lord,  tall  and  handsome,  with  long  side-whiskers  and 
a  double-barrelled  eye-glass  (it  was  «tf/Lord  Lyons), 
offered  her  marriage  at  sight. 


ST.  TWELWTO.  169 

It  could  scarcely  be  called  a  case  of  second  sight, 
on  her  part,  for  she  didn't  see  it. 

She  replied  by  reciting  three  chapters  from  the 
Gita-Govinda.  "  Great  'Evans  !  "  cried  the  lord,  and 
took  passage  for  England  the  next  day.  .He  will 
probably  never  return  to  this  country,  unless  it  be 
as  a  commissioner  to  settle  the  Alabama  claims. 

This  thing  must  be  kept  up,  thought  Etna,  and  she 
next  published  a  book.  This  made  a  hit — striking 
the  publisher  favorably,  as  he  announced  in  a  series 
of  fantastic  advertisments.  Type  of  the  most  won- 
derful characters  had  to  be  cast  expressly  for  the 
production  of  this  work,  and  the  services  of  the 
Learned  Blacksmith  were  engaged  as  a  chief  proof- 
reader —  he  should  be  kept  well  up  in  tongs,  said 
Etna.  Fifteen  cylinder  presses  were  kept  running 
night  and  day  to  supply  the  demand,  and  the  pub- 
lisher was  so  broken  down  in  health  by  the  labor  of 
writing  advertisements,  answering  questions,  and 
doing  battle  with  the  half-educated  idiots  who 
couldn't  understand  the  book  that  he  took  in  a  part- 
ner and  sailed  himself  for  an  uninhabited  island  to 
recuperate  his  shattered  constitution.  He  had  a 
good  time  on  the  island,  and  discovered  some  big 
things  in  ornithology. 


i7o  TREASURE-TROVE. 

In  fact,  never  was  there  seen  such  a  time.  Peo- 
ple came  from  all  parts  of  the  earth,  including  Bos- 
ton, to  see  the  authoress.  She  was  photographed 
and  photosculptured,  and  the  dear  dickens  only 
knew  what  wasn't  done  to  her ;  and  everybody 
wanted  to  marry  her,  even  little  Felix,  whom  too 
much  learning  had  made  mad. 

But  Etna  wouldn't  marry  any  body,  and  finally 
sailed  for  England  with  the  children,  to  get  away 
from  importunities,  and  it  is  said  that  she  even 
turned  longing  eyes  to  Heaven — where  it  is  popular- 
ly supposed  that  there  is  neither  marriage  nor 
giving  in  marriage — as  a  refuge. 

In  England  every  body  wanted  to  marry  her,  and 
the  yacht  club  gave  her  a  dinner.  In  return  she 
offered  to  present  Prince  Alfred  with  a  copy  of  her 
book,  which  he  respectfully  declined,  saying  that  he 
could  not  think  of  accepting  any  thing  so  valuable. 
She  was  even  importuned  to  lecture  in  Exeter  Hall 
paying*  the  expenses  of  the  building  herself  and 
guaranteeing  that  the  furniture  should  not  be  de- 
molished by  the  audience.  This  proposition  she 
refused.  But  she  consented  to  read  an  essay  in 
private,  upon  the  points  of  similarity  between  the 
Christian   deities  and  heathen    gods  ;  the  essay  was 


ST.  TWEL'MO.  171 

spoken  of  by  those  who  heard  it  as  "  a  most  exhaus- 
tive one" — indeed,  it  must  have  been,  for  nearly  all 
who  sat  it  through  sank  off  to  sleep. 

Little  Felix  died.  But  Etna  was  somewhat  con- 
soled for  the  death  of  her  charge  by  hearing  of  the 
"  new  birth"  of  her  lover.  The  first  dispatch — the 
Atlantic  cable  was  not  working  very  well  then — spelt 
it  berth,  and  stated  that  St.  Twel'mo  had  been 
ordained  as  a  circus  rider.  But  a  letter  by  the 
Cunard  corrected  the  canard,  and  Etna  learnt,  to  her 
great  joy,  that  Circuit  rider  was  meant,  and  her 
beloved  was  a  minister. 

At  first  she  could  not  believe  the  news,  but  re- 
turning to  Chattanooga,  as  soon  as  steam  and  rail 
could  carry  her,  she  found  it  confirmed.  He  had 
run  through  most  of  his  property,  people  said,  and 
no  other  profession  was  open  to  him. 

The  war  breaking  out  just  then,  Etna  determined 
that  St.  Twel'mo  should  not  be  at  peace,  and 
married  him.  She  knew  that  the  cause  of  the  South 
was  pure  and  just,  and  that  they  had  a  right  to  forts, 
arsenals,  territory,  and  things  that  they  had  not  paid 
for,  and  she  was  perfectly  willing  to  sacrifice  her 
best  beloved  to  establish  the  sincerity  of  her  con- 
victions.    Partly   by   her  influence,  but   chiefly  for 


I72  TREASURE-TROVE. 

lack  of  any  other  material,  he  was  made  Bishop  by 
brevet,  and  Brigadier-General  by  confirmation.  Un- 
fortunately, for  the  cause  which  she  knew  to  be 
pure  and  just,  his  sermons  bored  his  soldiers  sadly, 
while  his  generalship  did  not  at  all  harass  the  enemy. 
Had  the  Northern  forces  been  obliged  to  face  his 
sermons  instead  of  taking  his  positions,  in  all  human 
probability,  the  contest  would  have  terminated  differ- 
ently. 

As  it  was,  however,  the  victorious  armies  swept 
over  and  around  Lookout  Mountain,  and  surrender, 
on  the  part  of  its  defenders,  became  a  Pantheistic 
Necessity — the  bear-garden  was  stripped  naked,  the 
elephants,  rhinoceroses,  etc.,  having  been  killed  and 
eaten  by  the  half-starved  soldiery,  in  the  first  stages 
of  the  siege.  The  Herring  safe  was  carried  off  and 
did  duty  for  memorable  months  of  the  campaign  as 
a  meat-safe  at  the  headquarters  of  the  invading  army. 
In  short,  if  any  one  can  find  a  trace  of  Le  Beaucage 
in  the  vicinity  of  Lookout  Mountain,  point  to  its 
locality,  or  even  bring  forward  a  reliable  gentleman 
or  intelligent  contraband  who  ever  saw  it,  he  will  be 
rewarded  handsomely.     St.  Twel'mo  is  shelved. 

My  story  is  done.     I  am  not  aware  that  it  has  any 


ST.   TWEVMO.  173 

moral,  nor  did  I  design  any  in  the  outset,  beyond 
indicating  the  danger  of  leaving  dictionaries  in  the 
way  of  children,  and  pointing  that  peculiarity  in 
woman's  nature  which  inspires  them  to  love  those 
who  beat  and  bite  them.  However,  if  any  can 
glean  other  morals  from  it,  they  are  at  perfect  liberty 
so  to  do. 

JOHN  PAUL. 


LESSONS  IN  BIOGRAPHY. 


{An  extract  from  the  life  of  Dr.  Pozz,  in  ten  volumes, 
folio,  written  by  J 'antes  Bozz,  Esq.,  who  flourished 
with  him  near  fifty  years.) 

By  Rev.  James  Beresford. 

E  dined  at  die  chop-house ;  Dr.  Pozz  was 
this  day  very  instructive.  Talking  of 
books,  I  mentioned  the  "  History  of  Tommy 
Trip,  and  said  it  was  a  great  work."  Pozz. 
— "  Yes,  sir,  it  is  great,  relatively;  it  was  a  great  work 
to  you  when  you  were  a  little  boy ;  but  now,  sir,  you 
are  a  great  man,  and  Tommy  Trip  is  a  little  man." 

Feeling  somewhat  hurt  at  this  comparison, — I 
believe  he  perceived  it,  for  as  he  was  squeezing  a 
lemon,  he  said, — "Never  be  affronted  at  a  comparison  ; 
I  have  been  compared  to  many  things,  yet  I  never 
was  affronted  at  a  comparison.     No,  sir,  if  they  were 


LESSONS  IN  BIOGRAPHY.  175 

to  call  me  a  dog,  and  you  a  canister  tied  to  my  tail, 
I  should  not  be  affronted." 

Cheered  by  this  kind  mention  of  me,  though  in 
such  company,  I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  a 
friend  of  ours  who  was  always  making  comparisons. 
Pozz. — "  Sir,  that  fellow  has  a  simile  for  everything. 
I  knew  him  when  he  kept  shop, — he  then  made 
money,  and  now  he  makes  comparisons ;  he  would 
say,  for  instance,  that  you  and  I  were  two  figs  stuck 
together,  two  figs  in  adhesion,  and  then  he  would 
laugh." 

To  this  vivid  exertion  of  intellect,  I  observed  in 
reply,  "  Certain  great  writers  have  determined  that 
comparisons  are  odious."  Pozz.  "  No,  sir,  not  odious 
as  comparisons.  The  fellows  who  make  them  are 
odious  ;  the  whigs  make  comparisons." 

We  supped  that  evening  at  his  house,  when  I  took 
an  opportunity  of  showing  him  a  copy  of  verses  I 
had  made  on  a  pair  of  breeches.  Pozz. — "  Sir,  the 
lines  are  good  ;  but  where  do  you  find  such  a  subject 
in  Scotland?  Bozz. — "  The  greater  the  proof  of  in- 
vention, which  is  a  characteristic  of  Poetry."  Pozz. — 
"  Yes,  sir,  but  it  is  an  invention  which  few  of  your 
countrymen  can  enjoy."  I  reflected  afterwards  on  the 
depth  of  this  remark.      It  affords  a  proof  of  that 


176  TREASURE-TROVE. 

profundity  which  he  displays  in  every  branch    of 
literature. 

Having  accidentally  asked  him  if  he  approved  of 
green  spectacles,  he  made  answer :  "  As  to  green  spec- 
tacles, sir,  the  question  seems  to  be  this, — if  I  wore 
green  spectacles,  it  would  be  because  they  assisted 
vision,  or  because  I  liked  them  ;  but  if  a  man  were  to 
tell  me  he  did  not  like  green  spectacles,  and  that  they 
hurt  his  eyes,  I  do  not  compel  him  to  wear  them.  No, 
sir,  I  would  rather  dissuade  him  from  making  use  of 
them." 

A  few  months  after,  I  consulted  him  again  on 
this  subject,  and  he  honored  me  with  a  letter,  in 
which  he  confirmed  his  former  opinion :  it  may  be 
found  in  the  proper  place,  vol  vi.  page  2789. 
And  having  since  that  time  maturely  considered  the 
point  myself,  I  must  needs  confess,  that  in  all 
such  matters,  a  man  ought  to  be  a  free  moral  agent. 

The  next  day  I  left  town  for  six  weeks,  three  days 
and  seven  hours,  as  I  find  by  a  memorandum  in  my 
Journal.     During  this  time  I  received  only  one  letter 
from  him,  which  is  as  follows  : 
"  To   James   Bozz,    Esq. 
"  Dear  Sir," 

"  My  bowels  have  been  very  bad  ;  Pray  buy  for  me 


LESSONS  IN  BIOGRAPHY.  177 

some  Turkey  rhubarb,  and  bring  with  you  a  copy  of 
your  tour.     Write  me  soon,  and  write  me  often. 
"  I  am,  dear  sir, 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"Sam.  Pozz." 

It  would  have  been  unpardonable  to  have  omitted 
a  letter  in  which  we  see  so  much  of  his  great  and  illu- 
minated mind. 

On  my  return  to  town,  we  met  again  at  the 
chop-house,  and  had  a  long  as  well  as  a  highly  inter- 
esting conversation ;  indeed,  there  is  not  one  hour 
of  my  life  in  which  I  do  not  profit  by  some  part  of 
his  valuable  communications. 

On  medical  subjects  his  knowledge  was  immense. 
He  told  me  that  one  of  our  friends  had  just  been 
attacked  by  an  alarming  complaint.  He  had  entire- 
ly lost  the  use  of  his  limbs, — he  was  speechless, — 
his  eyes  swollen,  and  every  vein  distended  ;  yet  his 
face  was  pale,  and  .his  extremities  cold,  at  the  same 
time  his  pulse  beat  one  hundred  and  sixty  strokes 
in  a  minute. 

I  said,  with  tenderness,  that  I  would  immediately 

go  and  see  him,  and  take  Dr.  Bolus  with  me.  Pozz. — 

"  No,  sir,  don't  go."     I  was  startled  at  so  unexpected 

a  reply,  well  knowing  his  compassionate  heart,  and 

12 


1 7  8  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

earnestly  demanded  of  him  the  reason  why  I  should 
not  procure  for  the  afflicted  person  instant  relief. 
Pozz. — "  Sir,  you  do  not  know  his  disorder."  Bozz. 
— "  Pray  what  is  it  ?  "  Pozz. — "  Sir,  the  man  is  dead 
drunk." 

This  explanation  threw  me  into  a  violent  fit  of 
laughter,  in  which  he  joined  me,  rolling  about  as  he 
used  to  do  when  he  enjoyed  a  joke  ;  but  he  after- 
wards checked  me,  by  the  following  words  :  "  Sir, 
you  ought  not  to  laugh  at  what  I  said,  for  he  who 
laughs  at  what  another  man  says,  will  soon  laugh 
at  that  other  man.  Sir,  you  ought  to  laugh  but  sel- 
dom.    You  ought  to  laugh  only  at  your  own  jokes." 

Talking  of  a  friend  of  ours,  who  was  a  very  vio- 
lent politician,  I  said  "  I  did  not  like  his  company." 
Pozz. — "No,  sir,  he  is  not  healthy,  he  is  sore.  Sir, 
his  mind  is  ulcerated, — he  has  a  political  whitlow ; 
you  cannot  touch  him,  sir,  without  giving  him  pain. 
I  would  never  venture  to  speak  on  political  subjects 
with  that  man ;  I  would  talk  of  cabbage  and  of 
peas.  Sir,  I  would  ask  him  how  he  got  his  corn  in, 
but  I  would  not  meddle  with  politics."  Bozz. — "  But 
perhaps,  sir,  he  would  talk  of  nothing  else."  Pozz. 
— "  Then  it  is  plain  what  he  would  do."  On  my  ear- 
nestly entreating  him  to  tell  me  what  that  was,  Dr 


LESSONS  IN  BIOGRA PHY.  1 7 9 

Bozz  replied  :     "  Sir,  he  would  let  everything  else 
alone." 

I  mentioned  a  tradesman  who  had  lately  set  up  a 
coach.  Pozz. — "  You  are  right,  sir,  a  man  who  would 
go  on  swimmingly  cannot  be  too  soon  off  his  legs. 
You  tell  me  he  keeps  a  coach  ;  now,  sir,  a  coach  is 
better  than  a  chaise  ;  sir,  it  is  better  than  a  chariot." 
Bozz.—"  Why,  sir  ?"  Pozz.—"  It  will  hold  more."  I 
begged  he  would  repeat  this  valuable  observation, 
in  order  to  impress  it  on  my  memory,  and  he  com- 
plied with  great  good-humor. 

Taking  a  hint  from  the  subject  of  our  present 
conversation,  I  said  :  "  Dr.  Pozz,  you  ought  to  keep 
a  coach."  Pozz. — "  Yes,  sir,  I  ought."  Bozz. — "  But 
you  do  not,  and  this  has  often  surprised  me."  Pozz. 
— "Surprised you  !  There,  sir,  is  another  prejudice  of 
absurdity.  Sir,  you  ought  to  be  surprised  at  noth- 
ing ;  a  man  who  has  lived  half  so  long  as  you,  ought 
to  be  above  surprise.  It  is  a  rule  with  me,  sir,  nev- 
er to  be  surprised." 

"This  is  an  error,"  continued  Dr.  Pozz,  "pro- 
duced by  ignorance  ;  you  cannot  guess  why  I  do 
not  keep  a  coach,  and  you  are  surprised  !  now  sir, 
if  you  did  know,  you  would  not  be  surprised."  I  said 
tenderly,   "  I    hope,  my    dear   sir,  you    will    let    me 


180  TREASURE-TROVE. 

know  before  I  leave  town."  Pozz. — "  Yes,  sir,  you 
shall  now  know  ;  the  reason  why  I  do  not  keep  a 
coach  is,  because  I  can't  afford  it." 

We  talked  of  drinking  ;  I  asked  him  whether,  in 
the  course  of  his  long  and  valuable  life,  he  had  not 
known  some  men  who  drank  more  than  they  could 
bear.  Pozz. — "Yes,  sir,  and  then  nobody  could  bear 
them  ;  a  man  who  is  drunk,  sir,  is  a  very  foolish  fel- 
low. Pozz. — But,  sir,  as  the  poet  says,  he  is  devoid  of 
all  care."  Pozz. — "  That  is  true,  sir,  he  cares  for  no- 
body ;  he  has  none  of  the  cares  of  life  ;  he  cannot  be 
a  merchant,  sir,  for  he  is  unable  to  write  his  name  ; 
he  cannot  be  a  politician,  sir,  for  he  is  almost 
speechless  ;  he  cannot  be  an  artist,  sir,  for  he  is 
nearly  blind ;  and  yet,  sir,  there  is  a  science  in 
drinking."  Pozz. — "I  suppose  you  mean  that  a  man 
ought  to  know  what  he  drinks."  Pozz. — No,  sir,  to 
know  what  one  drinks  is  nothing,  but  the  science 
consists  of  three  parts  ;  in  knowing  when  we  have 
had  too  little,  when  we  have  had  too  much,  and 
when  we  have  had  enough.  For  instance,  there  is 
our  friend  *  *  *  *,  he  can  always  tell  when  he 
has  too  little,  and  when  he  has  too  much,  but  never 
knows  when  he  has  enough." 

We  talked   this  clay  on  a  variety  of  subjects,  but  I 


LESSONS  IN  BIOGRAPHY.  181 

find  few  memorandums  in  my  journal ;  on  small 
beer,  he  said  it  was  a  flatulent  liquor  He  disap- 
proved of  those  who  deny  the  utility  of  absolute  pow- 
er, and  seemed  to  be  offended  with  a  friend  of  ours 
who  would  always  have  his  eggs  poached.  Sign 
posts,  he  observed,  had  very  much  degenerated  with- 
in his  memory,  and  he  found  great  fault  with  the 
moral  of  the  Beggar's  Opera. 

I  endeavored  to  defend  a  play  which  had  afforded 
me  so  much  pleasure,  but  could  not  muster  that 
strength  of  mind  with  which  he  argued  ;  and  it  was 
with  great  satisfaction  that  he  afterwards  communi- 
cated to  me  a  method  of  curing  corns  by  the  appli- 
cation of  a  piece  of  oiled  silk.  In  the  early  history 
of  the  world  he  preferred  Sir  Isaac  Newton  to  chro- 
nology ;  but  as  they  gave  employment  to  so  many 
hands,  he  did  not  dislike  the  large  shoe-buckles  then 
in  the  fashion. 

Next  day  we  dined  at  the  Mitre  ;  I  mentioned 
spirits.  Pozz. — "  Sir,  there  is  as  much  evidence  for 
the  existence  of  spirits  as  against  it ;  you  may  not 
believe  it ;  but  you  cannot  deny  it."  I  told  him  that 
my  great  grandmother  once  saw  a  spirit ;  he  desired 
me  to  relate  the  circumstances,  which  I  did  very 
minutely,  while  he  listened  with  profound  attention. 


182  TREASURE-TROVE. 

When  I  mentioned  that  the  spirit  once  appeared 
in  the  shape  of  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  and  another 
time  in  that  of  a  tea-pot,  he  interrupted  me.  Pozz. — 
"There,  sir,  is  the  point,  the  evidence  is  good,  but 
the  scheme  is  defective  in  consistency ;  we  cannot 
deny  that  the  spirits  appeared  in  these  shapes  ;  but 
then  we  cannot  reconcile  them  ;  for  what  has  a  tea- 
pot to  do  with  a  shoulder  of  mutton  ?  The  objects, 
sir,  are  neither  terrific  nor  contemporaneous  ;  they 
are  never  seen  at  the  same  time,  nor  in  the  same 
place."  Pozz. — "  I  think,  sir,  that  ghosts  are  most 
often  seen  by  old  women."  Pozz. — "  Yes,  sir,  and  their 
conversation  is  generally  full  of  the  subject;  I  would 
prefer  old  women  to  record  such  circumstances, 
their  loquacity  tends  to  minuteness." 

A  few  days  after  this  interesting  and  enlightened 
conversation,  we  talked  of  a  person  who  had  a  very 
bad  character.  Pozz. — "  Sir,  he  is  a  scoundrel." 
Bozz. — "  I  hate  a  scoundrel."  Pozz. — "  There  you  are 
wrong ;  I  would  not  have  you  hate  scoundrels ; 
scoundrels,  sir,  are  useful ;  there  are  many  things 
we  cannot  do  without  scoundrels.  I  should  not 
choose  to  keep  company  with  scoundrels  ;  neither 
would  I  introduce  them  to  my  wife  and  children ; 
but  something  may  begot  from  them."     Bozz. — "  Are 


LESSONS  IN  BIOGRAPHY.  183 

not  scoundrels  for  the  most  part  fools  ?  "  Pozz. — "  No 
sir,  they  are  not.  A  scoundrel  must  be  a  clever  fel- 
low ;  he  must  know  many  things  of  which  a  fool  is 
ignorant.  Any  man  may  be  a  fool,  but  to  be  a  com- 
plete rascal,  requires  considerable  abilities.  I  think 
a  good  book  might  be  written  on  the  subject  of  scoun- 
drels :  a  Biographia  Flagitiosa,  or  the  lives  of  em- 
inent scoundrels,  from  the  earliest  accounts  to  the 
present  time." 

Hanging  was  mentioned  in  the  course  of  the  con- 
versation, and  I  observed  that  it  was  a  very  awkward 
situation.  Pozz. — "No,  sir,  hanging  is  not  an 
awkward  situation  ;  it  is  proper,  sir,  that  a  man  whose 
actions  tend  to  flagitious  obliquity  should  himself 
be  perpendicular." 

I  told  Doctor  Pozz,  that  I  had  lately  been  in 
company  with  a  number  of  gentlemen,  all  of  whom 
could  recollect  some  friend  or  other  who  had  been 
hanged.  Pozz. — "  Yes,  sir,  we  know  those  who  have 
been  hanged, — that  is  a  circumstance  we  can  easily 
recollect,  and  may  safely  mention,  without  fear  of 
offence,  but  we  must  not  name  those  who  deserve  it — 
such  a  proceeding  would  not  be  decorous  in  good 
company  ;  it  is  one  of  those  things  we  may  think 
but  must  not  speak  of. 


JOHN  JENKINS ; 


OR 


THE   SMOKER    REFORMED. 

By  T.  S.  A— TH— R. 


CHAPTER  I. 


NE  cigar  a  day!  "  said  Judge  Boompointer. 
"  One   cigar   a   day ! "   repeated   John 
Jenkins,  as  with  trepidation  he  dropped 
his  half  consumed  cigar  under  his  work-bench. 

"  One  cigar  a  day  is  three  cents  a  day,"  remarked 
Judge  Boompointer,  gravely ;  "  and  do  you  know, 
sir,  what  one  cigar  a  day,  or  three  cents  a  day, 
amounts  to  in  the  course  of  four  years?  " 

John  Jenkins,  in  his  boyhood,  had  attended  the 
village  school,  and  possessed  considerable  arithmet- 


JOHN  JENKINS.  185 

ical  ability.  Taking  up  a  shingle  which  lay  upon 
his  work-bench,  and  producing  a  piece  of  chalk, 
with  a  feeling  of  conscious  pride  he  made  an  ex- 
haustive calculation. 

"  Exactly  forty-three  dollars  and  eighty  cents,"  he 
replied,  wiping  the  perspiration .  from  his  heated 
brow,  while  his  face  flushed  with  honest  enthusiasm. 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  saved  three  cents  a  day,  instead 
of  wasting  it,  you  would  now  be  the  possessor  of  a 
new  suit  of  clothes,  an  illustrated  Family  Bible,  a 
pew  in  the  church,  a  complete  set  of  Patent  Office 
Reports,  a  hymn-book,  and  a  paid  subscription  to 
Authitr's  Home  Magazine,  which  could  be  purchased 
for  exactly  forty-three  dollars  and  eighty  cents ; 
and,"  added  the  Judge,  with  increasing  sternness, 
"  if  you  calculate  leap-year,  which  you  seem  to  have 
strangely  omitted,  you  have  three  cents  more,  sir  • 
three  cents  more !    What  would  that  buy  you,  sir?  " 

"  A  cigar,"  suggested  John  Jenkins  ;  but,  coloring 
again  deeply,  he  hid  his- face. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  Judge,  with  a  sweet  smile  of 
benevolence  stealing  over  his  stern  features  ;  "prop- 
erly invested,  it  would  buy  you  that  which  passeth 
all  price.  Dropped  into  the  missionary-box,  who 
can  tell  what  heathen,  now  idly  and  joyously  wanton- 


186  TREA  SURE-TRO  VE. 

ing  in  nakedness  and  sin,  might  be  brought  to  a 
sense  of  his  miserable  condition,  and  made,  through 
that  three  cents,  to  feel  the  torments  of  the  wicked  ?" 

With  these  words  the  Judge  retired,  leaving  John 
Jenkins  buried  in  profound  thought.  "  Three  cents 
a  day,"  he  muttered.  "  In  forty  years  I  might  be 
worth  four  hundred  and  thirty-eight  dollars  and  ten 
cents, — and  then  I  might  marry  Mary.  Ah,  Mary  !" 
The  young  carpenter  sighed,  and,  drawing  a  twenty- 
five  cent  daguerreotype  from  his  vest-pocket,  gazed 
long  and  fervidly  upon  the  features  of  a  young  girl 
in  book  muslin  and  a  coral  necklace.  Then,  with 
a  resolute  expression,  he  carefully  locked  the  door 
of  his  workshop  and  departed. 

Alas !  his  good  resolutions  were  too  late.  We 
trifle  with  the  tide  of  fortune  which  too  often  nips 
us  in  the  bud  and  casts  the  dark  shadow  of  misfor- 
tune over  the  bright  lexicon  of  youth  !  That  night 
the  half-consumed  fragment  of  John  Jenkins's  cigar 
set  fire  to  his  workshop  and  burned  it  up,  together 
with  all  his  tools  and  materials.  There  was  no 
insurance. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  DOWNWARD    PATH. 

HEN  you  still  persist  in  marrying  John 
Jenkins?"  queried  Judge  Boompointer 
as  he  playfully,  with  paternal  familiarity, 
lifted  the  golden  curls  of  the  village  belle,  Mary  Jones. 

"I  do,"  replied  the  fair  young  girl,  in  a  low  voice, 
that  resembled  rock  candy  in  its  saccharine  firm- 
ness,— "  I  do.  He  has  promised  to  reform.  Since 
he  lost  all  his  property  by  fire  —  " 

"The  result  of  his  pernicious  habit,  though  he 
illogically  persists  in  charging  it  to  me,"  interrupted 
the  Judge. 

"  Since  then,"  continued  the  young  girl,  "  he  has 
endeavored  to  break  himself  of  the  habit.  He  tells 
me  that  he  has  substituted  the  stalks  of  the  Indian 
ratan,  the  outer  part  of  a  leguminous  plant  called 


188  TREASURE-TROVE. 

the  smoking-bean,  and  the  fragmentary  and  uncon- 
sumed  remainder  of  cigars  which  occur  at  rare  and 
uncertain  intervals  along  the  road,  which,  as  he  in- 
forms me,  though  deficient  in  quality  and  strength, 
are  comparatively  inexpensive."  And,  blushing  at 
her  own  eloquence,  the  young  girl  hid  her  curls  on 
the  Judge's  arm. 

"  Poor  thing ! "  muttered  "fudge  Boompointer. 
"  Dare  I  tell  her  all  ?     Yet  I  must."      * 

"  I  shall  cling  to  him,"  continued  the  young  girl 
rising  with  her  theme,  "as  the  young  vine  clings 
to  some  hoary  ruin.  Nay,  nay,  chide  me  not,  Judge 
Boompointer.     I  will  marry  John  Jenkins  !  " 

The  Judge  was  evidently  affected.  Seating  him- 
self at  the  table,  he  wrote  a  few  lines  hurriedly  upon 
a  piece  of  paper,  which  he  folded  and  placed  in  the 
fingers  of  the  destined  bride  of  John  Jenkins. 

"Mary  Jones,"  said  the  Judge,  with  impressive 
earnestness.  "  take  this  trifle  as  a  wedding  gift  from 
one  who  respects  your  fidelity  and  truthfulness. 
At  the  altar  let  it  be  a  reminder  of  me."  And  cov- 
ering his  face  hastily  with  a  handkerchief,  the  stern 
and  iron-willed  man  left  the  room.  As  the  door 
closed,  Mary  unfolded  the  paper.  It  was  an  order 
on  the  corner  grocery  for  three  yards  of  flannel,  a 


JOHN  JENKINS.  189 

paper  of  needles,  four  pounds  of  soap,  one  pound  of 

starch,  and  two  boxes  of  matches  ! 

"  Noble  and  thoughtful  man  !  "  was  all  Mary  Jones 

could  exclaim,  as  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and 

burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

***** 

The  bells  of  Cloverdale  are  ringing  merrily.  It  is 
a  wedding.  "  How  beautiful  they  look  !  "  is  the 
exclamation  that  passes  from  lip  to  lip,  as  Mary  Jones, 
leaning  timidly  on  the  arm  of  John  Jenkins,  enters 
the  church.  But  the  bride  is  agitated,  and  the  bride- 
groom betrays  a  feverish  nervousness.  As  they  stand 
in  the  vestibule,  John  Jenkins  fumbles  earnestly  in  his 
vest-pocket.  Can  it  be  the  ring  he  is  anxious  about  ? 
No.  He  draws  a  small  brown  substance  from  his 
pocket,  and  biting  off  a  piece,  hastily  replaces  the 
fragment  and  gazes  furtively  around.  Surely  no  one 
saw  him  ?  Alas !  the  eyes  of  two  of  that  wedding  party 
saw  the  fatal  act.  Judge  Boompointer  shook  his 
head  sternly.  Mary  Jones  sighed  "and  breathed  a 
silent  prayer.     Her  husband  chewed  ! 


CHAPTER  III.  AND  LAST. 

HAT  !  more  bread?  "  said  John  Jenkins 
gruffly.  "  You're  always  asking  for 
money  for  bread.  D — nation  !  Do  you 
want  to  ruin  me  by  your  extravagance  ?  "  and  as  he 
uttered  these  words  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  bottle 
of  whiskey,  a  pipe,  and  a  paper  of  tobacco.  Empty- 
ing the  first  at  a  draught,  he  threw  the  empty  bottle 
at  the  head  of  his  eldest  boy,  a  youth  of  twelve  sum- 
mers. The  missile  stuck  the  child  full  in  the  temple, 
and  stretched  him  a  lifeless  corpse.  Mrs.  Jenkins, 
whom  the  reader  will  hardly  recognize  as  the  once 
gay  and  beautiful  Mary  Jones,  raised  the  dead  body 
of  her  son  in  her  arms,  and  carefully  placing  the  un- 
fortunate youth  beside  the  pump  in  the  back  yard, 
returned  with  saddened  step  to  the  house.  At  an- 
other time,  and  in  brighter  days,  she  might  have 
wept  at  the  occurrence.     She  was  past  tears  now. 


JOHN  JENKINS.  1 9 1 

"  Father,  your  conduct  is  reprehensible  ! "  said 
little  Harrison  Jenkins,  the  youngest  boy.  "  Where 
do  you  expect  to  go  when  you  die  ?  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  John  Jenkins,  fiercely  ;  "  this  comes 
of  giving  children  a  liberal  education  ;  this  is  the 
result  of  Sabbath  schools.     Down,  viper  !  " 

A  tumbler  thrown  from  the  same  parental  fist  laid 
out  the  youthful  Harrison  cold.  The  four  other 
children  had,  in  the  mean  time,  gathered  around  the 
table  with  anxious  expectancy.  With  a  chuckle, 
the  now  changed  and  brutal  John  Jenkins  produced 
four  pipes,  and,  filling  them  with  tobacco,  handed 
one  to  each  of  his  offspring  and  bade  them  smoke. 
H  It's  better  than  bread  ! "  laughed  the  wretch, 
hoarsely. 

Mary  Jenkins  though  of  a  patient  nature,  felt  it 
her  duty  now  to  speak.  "  I  have  borne  much,  John 
Jenkins,"  she  said.  "  But  I  prefer  that  the  children 
should  not  smoke.  It  is  an  unclean  habit,  and  soils 
their  clothes.     I  ask  this  as  a  special  favor !  " 

John  Jenkins  hesitated, — the  pangs  of  remorse 
began  to  seize  him. 

"  Promise  me  this,  John  !  "  urged  Mary  upon  her 
knees. 

"  I  promise  I  "  reluctantly  answered  John. 


r  9  2  TREA  SURE-  TRO  VE. 

"  And  you  will  put  the  money  in  a  savings-bank  ?" 

'■  I  will,"  repeated  her  husband  ;  "  and  I'll  give  up 
smoking,  too." 

"  'T  is  well,  John  Jenkins !  "  said  Judge  Boom- 
pointer,  appearing  suddenly  from  behind  the  door, 
where  he  had  been  concealed  during  this  interview. 
"  Nobly  said  !  my  man.  Cheer  up!  I  will  see  that 
the  children  are  decently  buried."  The  husband 
and  wife  fell  into  each  other's  arms.  And  Judge 
Boompointer,  gazing  upon  the  affecting  spectacle, 
burst  into  tears. 

From  that  day  John  Jenkins  was  an  altered  man.  v 

BRET  HARTK 


HO-FI   OF  THE  YELLOW   GIRDLE. 


Adapted  from  the  Chinese  of  Hou-de-Kaw-Lim* 


BY    T.    T.    T. 


ORE  graceful  than  the  bamboo,  and  fairer 
than  rice,  was  So-Sli,  the  daughter  of  the 
philosopher  Poo-Poo.  Her  foot  was  no 
longer  than  her  finger ;  so  that,  when  she  walked, 
she  tottered  in  the  most  engaging  manner,  and  was 
obliged  to  seek  the  support  of  a  reed  or  of  a  hand- 
maiden. So  light  was  her  form,  and  so  lovely  was 
her  face,  and  so  helpless  was  her  air,  that,  when  she 

*  A  writer  as  prolific  and  various  as  our  own  Anon.  He  resembles 
that  writer,  too,  in  the  ill-fortune  which  has  militated  against  his  ob- 
taining the  fame  due  to  his  genius  and  industry,  from  the  authorship 
of  all  his  most  excellent  works  having  been  uniformly  claimed  by 
unprincipled  and  shameless  persons,  who  have  succeeded  in  tearing 
the  bamboo-sprigs  from  his  brows.  He  is  still  living,  though  arrived  at 
a  patriarchal  age.  No  library  can  be  considered  complete  without  a 
collected  edition  of  his  works.  — T.  T.  T. 


1 94  TREASURE-  TRO  VE. 

appeared  abroad,  she  attracted  the  notice  of  all,  as 
a  straw  which  a  juggler  of  Shanghai  balances  on 
the  tip  of  his  nose.  Her  brows  were  arched  like 
the  feathers  in  the  tail  of  the  domestic  bird  of  the 
river;  her  eyes  were  smaller  than  the  kernels  of  the 
almond,  and  were  free  from  the  disfigurement  of 
lashes ;  her  hair  was  like  a  cobweb  of  the  black 
spiders  of  Chensi ;  her  nose  was  small  and  beau- 
tifully flat ;  her  lips  were  as  two  large  pink  cater- 
pillars, which  the  cooks  of  Pecheli  have  prepared 
in  the  banquet  for  the  Son  of  Heaven.  The  fame 
of  her  loveliness  had  spread  through  the  province 
Kiang-Si ;  and  many  a  manly  spirit  yearned  towards 
her,  even  upon  the  report  of  her  beauty. 

Many  were  the  solicitations  made  to  her  father 
for  the  hand  of  the  lovely  So-Sli ;  and  he  might 
have  married  her  to  mandarins,  both  civil  and 
military,  as  many  as  he.  pleased.  But  old  Poo-Poo 
was  a  sage  and  a  philanthropist,  and  hai  devoted 
himself  much  to  the  investigation  of  causes  of 
human  happiness  and  misery,  and  had  determined 
that  marriage  might  be  highly  conducive  to  one  or 
to  the  other,  according  as  it  should  be,  or  should 
not  be,  conducted  upon  scientific  principles.  Of 
the  scientific  principles  upon  which  marriage  should 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.         195 

be  conducted,  he  had  formed  a  theory  of  his  own  ; 
and  it  had  been  a  source  of  the  deepest  regret  to 
him,  that  he  had  not  devised  his  theory  until  after 
his  own  marriage. 

However,  as  his  wife  was  now  dead,  that  had 
become  a  matter  of  comparatively  little  importance. 
He  determined  that  his  daughter  should  have  the 
full  benefit  to  be  derived  from  his  idea ;  and,  for  a 
Chinese,  it  must  be  conceded  that  his  principles 
exhibited  much  liberality  of  feeling.  This  was 
particularly  evinced  in  one  of  his  theorems,  —  a 
theorem  which,  however,  appeared  in  the  eyes  of 
his  countrymen  so  extraordinary,  that,  but  for  some 
charitable  doubts  which  were  entertained  as  to  his 
sanity,  it  would  probably  have  brought  down  upon 
him  the  heavy  displeasure  of  the  government. 

He  was  the  first  of  the  Celestial  people  who  had 
ever  questioned  or  doubted  the  propriety  of  a 
marriage  between  persons  who  had  had  no  previous 
acquaintance  with  each  other.  He  was  rash  enough 
to  start  and  maintain  this  opinion ;  and,  further- 
more, he  considered  that  a  certain  somewhat  of 
congeniality  should  subsist  between,  and  be  dis- 
covered by,  the  parties,  before  they  should  proceed 
to    bind    themselves    indissolubly    together.      He 


196  TREASURE-TROVE. 

determined,  therefore,  not  only  that  his  daughter 
should  see  her  future  lord  before  she  became  a 
wife,  but  such  was  the  peculiar  tenderness  of  his 
paternal  affection,  and  so  far  had  the  heresy  oi 
innovation  possessed  him,  that  she  should  not  be 
made  over  to  any  person  towards  whom  she  mani- 
fested a  decided  dislike. 

Two  great  mandarins,  Hang-Yu  and  Yu-be- 
Hung,  and  a  certain  rich  merchant,  Tin,  had  sent 
costly  presents  to  her  father ;  and  the  eloquent 
Tung,  a  graduate  of  the  college  of  Hanlan,  had 
composed  ten  volumes  of  moral  sentences  in  praise 
of  the  beauty  of  So-Sli :  but  though  he  perused  the 
books,  and  graciously  accepted  the  presents,  Poo- 
Poo  rejected  these  applicants,  who  lived  too  far  off 
to  make  their  addresses  in  person.  It  fared  no 
better  with  many  of  various  rank,  —  manufacturers, 
and  proprietors  of  rice-grounds,  silk-feeders,  barge- 
owners,  and  officers,  civil  and  military,  who,  dwell- 
ing in  the  neighborhood,  had  opportunities  of  seeing, 
and  of  being  looked  upon  by,  the  lovely  eyes  of 
So-Sli.  She  had  expressed  herself  as  being  by  no 
means  averse  to  Tung,  or  to  Tin,  to  Hang-Yu,  or 
Yu-be-Hung ;  but  these  she  had  never  seen.  Those 
whom  she  saw  found   no  favor  in  her  sight.     One 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        197 

was  too  tall ;  another  was  too  short ;  a  third  was  too 
fat ;  a  fourth  too  thin  ;  this  too  gay  ;  and  that  too 
serious.  Ting-a-Ting's  voice  was  too  gentle  :  Ding- 
Dong's  was  too  loud.  One  was  too  fond  of  sweet- 
potato,  and  sweet-potato  she  disliked :  another,  not 
sufficiently  partial  to  dog,  and  dog  was  her  favorite 
dish.  In  fact,  So-Sli  was  by  no  means  easy  to 
please. 

Here  we  may  pause  to  remark,  that  the  multi- 
plicity of  presents  which  for  a  long  time  poured  in 
upon  Poo-Poo  were  well-nigh  procuring  converts  to 
his  system  among  old  gentlemen  who  had  marriage- 
able daughters ;  but  at  last  suitors  grew  chary  of 
their  presents,  and  withheld  them  till  an  interview 
with  the  young  lady  should  have  sealed  their 
fortune. 

In  the  town  in  which  dwelt  Poo-Poo  and  his 
lovely  daughter  So-Sli,  there  resided  a  young  man 
who  boasted  his  relationship  to  the  imperial  family, 
being,  in  fact,  a  descendant  from  an  emperor  who 
had  occupied  the  throne  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  before. 

The  Emperor  of  China  looks  with  commendable 
affection  upon  all  his  poor  relations,  of  whom  he 
keeps  an  inventory  of    about  ten  thousand ;   and, 


198  TREASURE-TROVE. 

according  to  their  several  degrees  of  affinity,  he 
allots  to  all,  by  a  graduated  scale,  certain  annual 
stipends,  and  permits  them  to  wear  some  badge  by 
which  they  may  be  distinguished  as  being  of  his 
kin.  This  badge,  whether  cloak,  or  shawl,  or  belt, 
or  cap,  is  of  the  imperial  color,  yellow ;  and  in  the 
particular  instance  of  Ho-Fi,  the  young  man  of 
whom  we  speak,  was  a  silken  girdle,  whence  he  was 
known  throughout  that  neighborhood  as  Ho-Fi  of 
the  Yellow  Girdle.  He  furthermore  enjoyed  an 
allowance  of  three  dollars,  and  two  sacks  of  rice 
per  month. 

Being  thus  a  cousin,  though  a  distant  one,  of  the 
Son  of  Heaven,  he  would  have  considered  it  much 
beneath  his  dignity  to  have  followed  for  his  liveli- 
hood any  profession  or  trade ;  and,  as  he  had 
desires  and  ambition  to  which  his  means  were  quite 
inadequate,  he  was  driven  to  curious  shifts,  at  times, 
in  the  vulgar  words  of  the  west,  to  procure  salt  for 
his  porridge,  or,  indeed,  porridge  for  his  salt. 

Ho-Fi  heard  all  the  tongues  of  the  neighborhood 
eloquent  in  praise  of  the  beauty  of  So-Sli ;  but  he 
heard  them,  likewise,  no  less  voluble  in  condemna- 
tion of  her  whimsicality  and  waywardness.  Fresh 
stories  were  every  day  told  of  her  rejection  of  some 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        199 

meritorious  suitor;  and,  as  none  seemed  likely  to 
prove  altogether  agreeable  to  her  very  fastidious 
taste,  those  who  would  have  been  glad  to  obtain 
such  a  prize  became  shy  of  advancing  their  claims. 
But  Ho-Fi,  with  less  intrinsic  worth  than  many,  was 
not  of  a  character  to  be  daunted  by  the  fear  of  the 
negotiation  proving  unsatisfactory ;  and  he  resolved 
to  enlist  himself  as  one  of  the  competitors  for  the 
hand  of  So-Sli. 

Ho-Fi,  though  quite  a  young  man,  had  already 
been  six  times  married,  and  on  every  occasion  had 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  wife  within  a  few 
weeks  after  their  union.  As  seven  is  accounted  a 
particularly  fortunate  number,  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  he  was  desirous  to  adventure  once 
more.  His  six  dear  wives  were  all  laid  on  the  shelf 
together ;  and  he  wanted  one  other  in  order  "  to 
make  up  a  set." 

Ho-Fi  rejoiced  in  many  advantages  which  had 
already  several  times  stood  him  in  good  stead  in 
circumstances  somewhat  similar  to  those  in  which  he 
was  about  to  exert  his  tactics.  He  was  possessed 
of  what  his  lovely  countrywomen  were  prone  to 
consider  a  handsome  person.  His  finger-nails,  by 
virtue    of    well-contrived    splints,   he   managed    to 


200  TREASURE-TROVE, 

maintain  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length;  he  was 
quite  free  from  whiskers  or  beard  ;  and  his  head  was 
always  kept  cleanly  shaven,  except  the  usual  tuft  at 
the  crown,  which,  of  peculiar  blackness  and  strength, 
and  neatly  tied  up  with  silk,  depended  down  his 
back  almost  to  the  bend  of  his  knee.  He  was  par- 
ticular, moreover,  in  his  dress  ;  and,  as  it  was  well 
known  that  his  funds  were  of  the  most  limited,  it 
was  a  matter  of  surprise  among  his  neighbors  how 
he  became  possessed  of  so  very  respectable  a  ward- 
robe. And,  if  this  was  a  mystery  to  them,  what 
wonder  that  I,  a  stranger  and  barbarian,  am  quite 
unable  to  explain  it  ?  I  leave  it  to  your  conjectures, 
and  I  feel  sure  that  there  are  some  among  my 
countrymen  to  whom  a  solution  will  be  intuitively 
easy.  Person  and  dress,  it  will  be  admitted,  serve 
as  two  powerful  talismans  in  such  adventures  as  that 
upon  which  he  was  going  to  set  forth  ;  but  he  was 
possessed  of  other  advantages  incalculably  more 
important.  These  were  a  limitless  assurance,  and 
that  determined  perseverance,  which,  disregarding 
repulses,  returns  again  and  again  to  the  charge ; 
or  which  in  simpler  phrase,  will  not  take  no  for  an 
answer.  To  these  may  be  added  an  adaptability  of 
disposition,  which  could  fall  in  with  the  humors  of 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        20 1 

all  parties,  and  a  readiness  in  discovering  the  weak 
points  of  the  enemy,  and  directing  an  attack  accord- 
ingly. 

"  'Tis  but  venturing,"  said  Ho-Fi ;  "  and,  if  I  fail, 
I  will  not  hang  myself  up  by  my  pig-tail,  like  a  Boo- 
Bee,  nor  run  myself  through  with  a  thumb-nail,  like 
a  Ni-Ni."  Boo-Bee  and  Ni-Ni  were  two  celebrated 
Werters  of  China. 

His  design  thus  formed,  he  set  systematically  to 
work  to  carry  it  into  effect,  and  began  by  picking 
acquaintance  with  the  philosopher  Poo-Poo.  Ob- 
serving that  venerable  person  cheapening  the  hind- 
quarter  of  a  prize  pole-cat  in  the  meat-market,  with 
his  usual  ease  and  address  he  managed  to  fall  into 
conversation  with  him ;  and  by  a  little  banter,  from 
time  to  time,  agreeably  directed  to  the  butcher,  soon 
obtained  for  the  philosopher  that  abatement  in  the 
price  of  the  tempting  morsel,  for  which  Poo-Poo 
himself  might,  probably,  in  vain  have  striven.  Hav- 
ing declared  his  own  predilection  for  pole-cat,  and 
particularly  for  the  hind-quarter,  he  led  the  dis- 
course by  easy  gradations  from  pole-cats  to  weasels, 
from  weasels  to  rats,  from  rats  to  dogs,  from  dogs  to 
pigs,  from  pigs  to  his  fair  countrywomen,  and  so  to 
the   celebrated  beauty  So-Sli,  the  daughter  of  the 


202  TREASURE-TROVE. 

sage  Poo-Poo.  Of  the  philosopher  himself  he  ex- 
pressed great  admiration,  and  regretted  that  he  was 
not  so  fortunate  as  to  enjoy  his  acquaintance,  nay, 
that  he  did  not  even  so  much  as  know  him  by  sight. 
Poo-Poo  was  a  lover  of  wisdom ;  but  what  philoso- 
pher was  ever  yet  proof  against  adulation  ?  or  would 
not  feel  gratified  at  overhearing  his  own  praises  in 
cases  like  the  present,  where  they  could  not  be  in- 
tended as  flattery?  Ho-Fi  had  already  secured 
himself  a  high  place  in  the  philosophical  estimation 
of  Poo-Poo. 

It  will  readily  be  supposed  that  Poo-Poo  was  not 
anxious  to  turn  the  conversation  out  of  the  channel 
into  which  it  had  thus  accidentally  flowed ;  and  he 
sounded  his  new  friend's  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
his  pet  matrimonial  theory.  This  Ho-Fi  of  course 
applauded  "  to  the  very  echo,"  by  which  expression 
is  intended  that  his  words  were  mere  mockery,  vox 
et  pretcrea  nihil. 

"  Were  you  to  ask  me,"  said  he,  "  who  is  the 
greatest  of  ancient  or  modern  sages,  I  should 
answer,  Poo-Poo.  Were  you  to  ask  me,  who,  of  all, 
has  advanced  a  theory  most  likly  to  be  extensively 
beneficial  to  the  human  race,  I  should  answer,  Poo- 
Poo.     Nor  do  I  doubt  but  that  the  day  will  come 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        203 

when  the  wisdom  of  Poo-Poo  will  be  universally 
admitted,  and  his  name  be  adduced  as  a  conclusive 
settlement  of  all  disputed  questions ;  when,  if  any 
one  shall  be  asked  his  reason,  he  will  answer,  Poo- 
Poo  ;  if  he  be  asked  his  authority,  he  will  answer, 
Poo-Poo  ;  when  criticism  will  be  condensed  in  those 
two  syllables,  Poo-Poo ;  and  when  those  same  two 
syllables,  Poo-Poo,  will  suffice  to  upset  criticism ;  in 
short,  when  he  that  speaks  Poo-Poo  the  loudest  will 
be  the  best  logician,  and  when  all  discussion  will  be 
but  a  matter  of  Poo-Poo." 

That  day  Ho-Fi  dined  with  Poo-Poo  on  the  hind- 
quarter  of  the  prize  pole-cat. 

The  morsel  was  small,  but  it  was  choice. 

Having  so  soon  and  so  easily  insinuated  himself 
into  the  good  graces  of  the  father,  he  next  sought 
an  opportunity  of  winning  his  way  into  those  of  the 
daughter.  He  boldly  expressed  his  desire  to  Poo- 
Poo  ;  and  a  day  was  settled  upon  which  he  should 
be  formally  introduced  to  her,  —  a  ceremony  not  to 
be  conducted  with  too  great  precipitation.  In  the 
interval,  he  was  careful  to  collect  all  information 
regarding  the  whims  and  prejudices  of  the  lovely 
So-Sli. 

He  came,  he  saw.  He  conquered ;  or,  we  should 


204  TREASURE-TROVE. 

rather  write,  he  came,  she  saw,  he  conquered.  His 
attire  was  studiously  elegant ;  and  he  had  selected 
such  colors  as  he  had  found,  from  the  report  of  some 
of  her  acquaintance,  were  the  most  agreeable  to  her. 
His  beautifully-embroidered  petticoat  of  crimson 
silk  was  well  calculated  to  take  the  feminine  fancy ; 
his  shawl  might  have  won  the  heart  even  of  an  Eng- 
lish lady ;  his  cap  he  had  procured  from  one  of  the 
most  eminent  modistes  of  Pekin;  and  the  tippet, 
which  formed  part  of  out-door  dress,  was  of  the 
most  costly  fur.  His  long  black  hair  was  carefully 
plaited,  and  hung  far  down  his  back;  he  wore  a 
necklace  of  pearls,  much  coveted  by  his  young  com- 
petitors in  fashion ;  his  scent-bottle  was  replenished 
with  the  choicest  essence  ;  and  he  carried  a  valuable 
fan,  which  he  flourished  with  peculiar  grace. 

This  attention  to  externals  produced  at  once  a 
favorable  impression  upon  So-Sli,  who  was  herself 
particular  in  her  attire.  She  usually  wore  a  long 
frock-coat  of  blue  or  green  cloth  over  a  pink  waist- 
coat ;  and  her  trousers  were  always  of  the  newest  cut. 
She  went  to  considerable  expense  to  procure  the 
most  elegant  pipes,  and  piqued  herself  upon  her  nice 
judgment  in  her  choice  of  tobacco. 

The  town,  like   some  other  Chinese  towns,  was 


ffO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        205 

upon  the  point  of  surrendering  to  the  formidable 
"  demonstration  "  made  by  the  enemy ;  but  when  he 
opened  upon  it  simultaneously  the  light  artillery  of 
flattery  and  the  heavy  artillery  of  gifts  (the  latter 
consisting  of  two  great  guns,  —  the  one  a  gold  snuff- 
box, and  the  other  a  Chinese  poodle),  the  gates  flew 
open,  and  he  marched  in  triumph  into  the  citadel,  — 
his  lady's  heart.  The  vanquished  So-Sli  kept  the 
snuff-box,  ate  the  poodle,  and  accepted  the  heart  and 
the  hand  of  Ho-Fi. 

They  were  married,  and  a  fortnight  flew  by  in  two 
days ;  or,  perhaps,  the  young  pair  made  some  miscal- 
culation, as  the  almanacs  had  not  predicted  this. 

The  cranium,  we  would  observe,  is  the  dwelling- 
house  of  the  soul ;  the  organ  of  time  is  its  time- 
piece :  but,  when  the  soul  sits  all  day  in  its  back- 
rooms, it  sometimes  forgets  to  wind  up  its  clock. 

Each  was  constantly  devising  means  to  gratify  the 
other;  and  the  only  occasions  of  strife  that  arose 
between  them  were  when  each  endeavored  to  force 
upon  the  other  the  choicest  morsels  of  fox,  or  ferret, 
or  frog,  or  whatever  constituted  their  delicate  little 
meal  for  the  day. 

One  morning  Ho-Fi  for  a  while  absented  himself 
from  his   beloved   So-Sli,  and  went  into  the  ciry. 


206  TREASURE-TROVE. 

When  he  returned,  he  took  from  his  pouch,  or  reti- 
cule, a  small  packet  of  tea. 

"  My  dearest  So-Sli,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  friend 
who  is  particular  in  the  cultivation  of  plants.  With 
so  much  skill  and  care  are  his  experiments  con- 
ducted, that  he  has  succeeded  in  obtaining  bananas 
from  his  orange-trees,  and  in  converting  a  pine-apple 
into  a  gooseberry.  He  has  lately  directed  his  atten- 
tion to  the  improvement  of  a  young  tea-tree.  He 
planted  it  with  a  silver  spade,  manured  it  with  silk- 
worms and  doves'  marrow,  and  he  daily  waters  the 
earth  around  it  with  roe's  teeth  and  cinnamon-juice. 
He  has  hitherto  gathered  but  two  ounces  of  the 
leaves,  one  of  which  has  been  presented  to  the  em- 
peror ;  and  the  other  he  has  transmitted  to  me,  as 
being  the  oldest  of  his  friends.  So  I  have  brought 
it  here  for  my  darling  So-Sli.  As  you  love  me, 
make  an  infusion  of  its  leaves,  and  drink." 

"  Nay,"  said  So-Sli,  "  if  it  be  so  choice,  you  shall 
drink  it,  not  I.  What  exceedingly  curious  leaves  ! 
And  what  is  most  remarkable  about  them  is,  that 
they  are  exactly  like  others.  But  what  is  this  dust 
upon  them  ?  " 

"  That,"  answered  Ho-Fi,  "  is  a  substance  derived 
from  the  silkworms,  and  is  what,  had  they  not  been 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        207 

buried,  would  have  formed  the  down  on  the  wings 
when  they  became  moths.  But  you  must  drink  this 
most  dainty  infusion  :  I  have  prepared  it  purposely 
for  you ;  and  to  refuse  it  would  be  to  show  how  little 
you  loved  your  tender  Ho-Fi." 

Whilst  speaking,  Ho-Fi  had  poured  hot  water  on 
the  leaves  ;  and  he  offered  to  his  beloved  the  cup 
containing  the  fragrant  infusion.  She,  however, 
insisted  that  he  should  drink  it ;  and  an  affectionate 
contest  took  place  between  them,  each  wishing  to 
give  up>  to  the  other  all  the  enjoyment  of  so  exquisite 
a  draught.  So-Sli  at  first  positively  refused  to  taste 
a  drop ;  then  she  would  consent  that  he  should  leave 
one  sip  for  her ;  and  then,  that,  if  he  would  take  half, 
she  would  drink  the  remainder.  But  Ho-Fi  was  ob- 
stinately determined  that  she  should  have  all,  or  at 
least  should  take  the  first  draught.  At  last  their 
affectionate  entreaties  began  to  change  to  tones  of 
anger  and  impatience ;  when,  to  settle  the  matter  at 
once,  So-Sli  took  the  cup,  and,  proceeding  to  the 
open  window,  emptied  it  in  her  husband's  view, 
declaring,  that,  as  it  had  become  a  cause  of  quarrel, 
it  should  not  be  tasted  by  either. 

Their  anger  blew  over,  and  several  times  since 
they  had  taken  tea  together  in  perfect  amity.     One 


208  TREASURE-TROVE. 

evening  they  were  seated  to  that  important  occupa- 
tion, and  Ho-Fi  had  just  finished  his  first  cup,  when 
So-Sli  observed  she  did  not  think  the  tea  so  good  as 
usual.  Ho-Fi  agreed  with  her  in  opinion,  and, 
using  a  common  Chinese  imprecation,  wished  a  rot- 
ten root  to  the  tree  that  bore  it. 

"  What !  "  said  So-Sli,  bursting  into  a  fit  of  uncon- 
trollable laughter,  "  after  all  the  pains  your  poor 
friend  has  taken  to  nourish  it  with  silkworms  and 
spice  ?     Oh  !  now  that  is  too  cruel  a  desire !  " 

Ho-Fi  stared,  and  turned  somewhat  pale. 

"  Why  do  you  revert  to  that  subject  ? "  he  said. 
"  Methinks  it  were  better  to  let  such  a  matter  rest." 

"  Nay,"  said  So-Sli,  still  laughing  violently,  "  I 
said  you  should  drink  the  tea  ;  and,  when  I  pretended 
to  pour  it  from  the  window,  I  poured  it  only  into  an 
earthen  pan  which  lay  outside.  I  have  had  it 
warmed  for  you  now,  but  am  sorry  you  like  it  so 
little." 

Ho-Fi  turned  very  pale ;  and  his  pigtail,  with  the 
effect  of  fear,  stood  out  horizontally  and  stiffly  from 
his  head.  For  a  few  moments  he  was  struck  mo- 
tionless ;  but  anon  he  started  up,  and  called  loudly 
for  warm  water. 

"  Perfidious  woman  ! "  he  shrieked,  "  hast  thou 
poisoned  thy  husband  ? " 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        209 

"  Poisoned  !  "  said  So-Sli.  "  Was  the  tea  then 
poisoned  ?  I  remember  that  white  dust ;  but  can 
moths'  feathers  poison  ?  " 

"  It  burns ;  it  burns !  "  cried  Ho-Fi  in  a  frantic 
manner.     "  For   Fo's   sake   bring  me   an  emetic,  a ' 
stomach-pump  —  no,  no,  that  is  not  yet  invented  — 
but  blisters,  cataplasms,  any  thing !  " 

He  was  put  in  bed  ;  physicians  were  sent  for ;  he 
raved  till  he  was  exhausted,  and  then  lay  asleep,  or 
insensible,  for  some  hours.  When  his  sense  re- 
turned, he  became  aware  of  the  expressions  he  had 
used  ;  and,  being  calmer,  he  endeavored  to  explain 
them  away.  He  said  that  the  tea  was  of  such  won- 
derful potency  as  to  have  deprived  him  of  reason 
more  rapidly  than  the  strong  spirit  distilled  from 
rice  could  have  done.  He  had  fancied,  in  his  delir- 
ium, that  his  wife  had  put  poison  in  his  cup ;  but  he 
now  fully  appreciated  the  absurdity  of  such  a  fear. 
He  should  write  to  the  friend  from  whom  he  had 
received  the  leaves,  a  timely  intimation,  that,  should 
the  emperor  swallow  the  infusion  intended  for  the 
bodily  solace  of  that  Celestial  person,  he,  the  unfor- 
tunate cultivator  of  this  ardent  tea,  would  unques- 
tionably be  put  to  death  by  all  the  ingenuities  of 
torture 

1 

14 


2io  TREASURE-TROVE. 

Ho-Fi  had  a  strong  constitution  to  support  him 
against  poisoned  tea  and  three  Chinese  physicians- 
He  slowly  recovered  from  their  effects. 

He  was  restored  once  more  to  his  fond  wife ;  but, 
fond  as  she  had  always  shown  herself,  So-Sli  could  not 
prevent  the  intrusion  into  her  mind  of  an  unpleasant 
suspicion  that  her  affectionate  husband  had  offered 
her  poisoned  tea  from  a  too  lively  solicitude  to  put 
her  quite  out  of  reach  of  those  ugly  customers,  care 
and  sorrow.  Long  before  her  marriage,  surmises 
had  been  whispered,  which  had  even  reached  her 
ears,  that  at  least  a  few  of  his  former  six  wives  had 
been  dealt  with  unfairly  ;  but  no  one,  wife  or  other- 
wise, volunteered  any  evidence  against  him  ;  and  the 
Chinese  had  not  arrived  at  those  refinements  in 
chemical  science,  which  enable  our  western  lumina- 
ries, by  distilling  a  bone,  or  making  a  fricassee  of  a 
muscle,  to  detect  the  millionth  part  of  the  shadow  of 
nothing  in  one  who  is  supposed  to  have  died  by 
poison. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  hinted  that  a  man  was 
such  a  Bluebeard,  without  strong  reason  assigned 
for  so  supposing.  Perhaps,  to  some  minds,  the  mere 
fact  of  his  having  been  married  six  times,  and  hav- 
ing, in  every  instance,  become  a  widower  within  two 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        211 

months,  may  suffice  to  justify  a  suspicion ;  but,  if 
a  motive  should  be  sought  that  could  render  such 
heinous  villany  probable,  it  might  be  mentioned, 
that,  on  the  marriage  of  a  Yellow  Girdle,  he  is 
allowed  by  his  cousin,  the  emperor,  a  sum  of  one 
hundred  taels  (in  addition  to  his  usual  stipend)  to 
assist  in  furnishing  his  house  ;  and,  on  the  death  of 
his  wife,  one  hundred  and  twenty  more,  to  assist  in 
furnishing  her  sepulchre.  And  Ho-Fi  was  by  no 
means  the  first  of  whom  it  had  been  reported  that 
he  had  sought,  by  a  succession  of  such  profitable 
marriages  and  deaths,  to  raise  his  very  inconsidera- 
ble income  into  a  handsome  competency. 

So-Sli  could  not  avoid  a  suspicion;  but,  as  she 
had  really  loved  Ho-Fi,  she  tried  to  repress  it,  and 
not  to  entertain  such  evil  thoughts  as  must,  if  con- 
firmed, have  given  a  death-blow  to  her  affection. 
Still  she  was  haunted  by  a  fear  that  he  might 
endeavor  by  other  devices  to  lay  her  on  the  shelf 
with  his  former  wives.  The  "  shelf  "  whereupon  his 
former  wives  were  laid  was  a  shelf  of  rock  at  a 
small  distance  from  the  city,  —  a  place  upon  which 
such  persons  as  could  not  afford  to  purchase  ground 
for  the  burial  of  their  deceased  friends,  availed 
themselves  of  the  common  right  of  disposing  coffins. 


212  TREASURE-TROVE. 

He  had,  therefore,  appropriated  to  himself  a  portion 
of  this  ledge,  where  the  six  coffins  of  his  wives  were 
ranged  side  by  side,  in  the  neatest  order,  like  so 
many  volumes  of  one  book,  that  might,  not  inappro- 
priately, have  been  termed  collectively,  "  The  Works 
of  Ho-Fi."  Upon  each  was  inscribed  the  words, 
"Wife  of  Ho-Fi,"  and  the  name,  besides,  of  the 
occupant  as  a  brief  table  of  contents. 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  that,  had  So-Sli  been  more  sus- 
picious than  she  was,  she  would  therein  have  done 
her  husband  no  wrong.  There  was  nothing  he  so 
earnestly  wished  as  to  have  his  new  volume  firmly 
put  up  in  a  camphor-wood  binding,  and  neatly 
lettered  to  match  the  others. 

Ho-Fi  remembered  an  incident  in  a  famous  Chi- 
nese tragedy,  an  original  device  for  disposing  of  an 
obnoxious  person,  which  he  imagined  he  might  turn 
to  felicitous  account.  He  procured  a  savage  dog, 
and  having  purchased  a  lady's  dress  of  peculiar 
colors,  and  another  of  similar  appearance,  although 
of  inferior  quality,  he  filled  the  latter  with  straw, 
bones,  and  offal,  and  encouraged  the  fierce  animal 
to  tear  this  effigy  in  pieces.  The  creature  was  well 
pleased  with  the  prize  he  discovered  within ;  and 
Ho-Fi  repeated  his  experiments  on  several  succes 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        213 

sive  days.  When  he  considered  the  dog  to  be  suffi- 
ciently familiarized  with  the  figure,  he  tied  him  up, 
and  kept  him  for  some  time  without  food.  The 
insidious  Yellow  Girdle  then  made  a  present  to  his 
lady  of  the  other  and  choicer  dress,  expressing  a 
desire  that  she  might  immediately  indue  it.  This, 
not,  however,  until  she  had  examined  it  with  an 
apprehensive  eye,  she  did ;  and  he  affected  to  be 
much  gratified  at  beholding  her  in  her  new  garment. 
He,  however,  pretended  to  have  business  which 
would  call  him  from  home  for  an  hour,  and  begged 
that  she  would  wait  his  return  in  a  grotto  in  the 
garden ;  but  he  particularly  requested  that  she 
would  allow  no  one  to  open  a  chest  which  he  had 
had  placed  in  a  court  of  the  house,  and  of  which 
he  said  the  fastening  had  been  accidentally  broken. 
Excusing  himself  from  explaining  to  her  just  then 
what  it  contained,  he  promised  that  he  would  do 
so  by  and  by. 

When  So-Sli  was  left  alone,  she  communed  with 
herself.  "Who  knows,"  she  said,  "what  man-trap 
or  spring  gun  my  beloved  husband  may  have  pre- 
pared for  me  in  the  grotto  ?  "  It  will  not,  I  fear,  be 
wise  to  enter  thither.  And  what  can  be  enclosed 
within  this  chest,  which  he  wishes  to  keep  secret 


214  TREASURE-TROVE. 

from  me  ?  Now  I  would  wager  six  pots  of  pickled 
earth-worms  that  he  has  concealed  in  that  the  grave- 
clothes  which  he  intends  for  his  affectionate  So-Sli. 
So-Sli,  then,  resolved  to  examine  the  chest  forth- 
with. But  first  she  went  to  a  cage,  in  which  was 
her  husband's  bird  of  good-luck,  —  a  white-necked 
crow.  Ho-Fi  valued  this  bird  beyond  all  his 
earthly  possessions :  he  had  made  it  tame,  and  had 
attached  it  to  him  ;  and  he  considered,  that,  whilst  he 
possessed  it,  no  material  ill-fortune  could  befall  him. 
So-Sli  frequently  fed  it,  and  it  had  become  fond  of 
her  also,  from  which  it  was  to  be  believed  that  its 
kindly  influence  would  extend  to  her.  She  took  it 
now  from  its  cage,  and  placed  it  on  her  wrist,  and 
having  tendered  it  a  kiss,  which  was  affectionately 
received  and  reciprocated,  she  went  into  the  yard  to 
discover  the  contents  of  the  mysterious  chest.  She 
unhesitatingly  raised  the  lid,  but  let  it  fall  again 
with  great  precipitation,  as,  with  a  loud  growl,  a  sav- 
age dog  attempted  to  spring  from  within. 

So-Sli  was  off  with  greater  expedition  than  is  fre- 
quently practised  by  the  footless  ladies  of  the 
Flowery  Land  ;  and  the  cover  of  the  chest  having 
fallen  on  the  back  of  Bou-Wou,  —  such  was  the 
name  of    the  fierce  quadruped,  —  she  was  able  to 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        215 

gain   a  few  paces    before    he   had  struggled  from 
beneath  it. 

It  would  soon,  however,  have  been  all  over  with 
So-Sli, — for  the  dog  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
dress  so  familiar  to  him,  and  would,  therefore,  have 
mistaken  his  mistress  for  his  daily  bread,  —  had  she 
not,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  seized  Ho-Fi's 
bird  of  good-luck  by  the  neck,  and,  whisking  it 
rapidly  three  times  round,  thrown  it  to  her  hungry 
pursuer.  As  he  jumped  aside  to  snap  at  this,  So- 
Sli  reached  the  door,  and,  closing  it  against  him, 
secured  it  with  several  bolts. 

When  Ho-Fi  returned,  So-Sli  told  him  that  a 
savage  dog  had  got  loose  in  the  court,  and  that  his 
bird  of  good-luck  had  disappeared. 

"  As  I  looked  in  the  cage,"  she  said,  "  suddenly 
I  beheld  him  wax  paler  and  paler,  till,  having  be- 
come thinner  than  mist,  he  passed  between  the  bare  ; 
and  what  became  of  him  after  I  cannot  at  all  tell." 

Ho-Fi  was  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  his  bird. 
"  Better,"  said  he,  "  to  lose  nine  wives  than  to  lose 
a  bird  of  good-luck."  And  inwardly  he  feared  lest 
the  bird  of  good-luck  having  thus  evaporated  in 
the  presence  of  So-Sli  might  indicate  the  calamity 
he  most  dreaded,  —  that  he  should  lose  no  more 
wives. 


216  TREASURE-TROVE. 

In  a  few  days,  however,  his  invention  was  again 
in  active  exercise.  Perceiving  that  So-Sli's  sus- 
picions were  awakened,  he  judged  it  best  to  send 
his  dog  back  to  the  place  in  which  he  had  been 
trained ;  and  he  would  not  try  a  fresh  experiment 
with  him. 

Another  week  had  passed :  it  was  evening,  and 
the  shadows  of  the  western  hills  were  gradually  ex- 
tending eastward  over  the  richly-cultivated  fields. 
We  mention  this,  not  as  necessary  to  the  elucidation 
of  our  story,  but  merely  because  an  erroneous 
opinion  seems  to  have  possessed  the  minds  of  many, 
that  shadows  are  unknown  in  China.  The  artists 
of  the  Celestial  Empire  exhibit  their  hopeful  charac- 
ter by  omitting  the  dark  side  of  every  picture.  They 
would  make  you  believe  that  Peter  Schlemihl's 
friend  had  walked  through  the  land,  and  bought 
shadow  and  shade,  every  inch  of  the  commodity. 
Foreigners,  however,  have  not  discovered  that 
Nature,  in  this  particular,  has  framed  for  China 
laws  different  from  those  in  operation  over  other 
portions  of  the  globe.  But  the  Chinese  seem  really 
unaware  that  shadow  exists  among  them ;  and  in 
their  writings  and  discourse,  as  in  their  pictures, 
always  represent  their  country  as  an  all-enlightened 
land. 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        217 

It  was  evening ;  and  the  beautiful  So-Sli  was 
sitting  in  a  veranda,  very  diligently  engaged  in 
embroidering  a  dress,  and  chewing  betel,  when  Ho- 
Fi  approached,  and,  assuming  an  appearance  of 
sudden  alarm  and  solicitude,  exclaimed,  — 

"  By  the  pig-tail  and  thumb-nails  of  Confuttsze, 
explain  to  me  what  ails  my  ever  sweetest  So-Sli ! 
What  sudden  and  malevolent  disease  is  endeavoring 
to  pick  the  lock  of  my  casket  of  a  thousand  jewels  ? 
Your  complexion,  sweet  mouse  of  my  bosom,  is  like 
silk  ;  your  eyes  are  as  dull  as  a  stewed  shark's  fin  ; 
and  I  see  well  that  you  must  be  under  the  feeble 
influence  of  the  melancholic  Saturn :  thence  cold 
has  gained  a  predominancy  over  heat  in  your  tem- 
perament, and  dryness  over  moisture.  Go,  there- 
fore, to  your  chamber ;  avoid  all  yellow  objects,  and 
also  those  of  gloomy  white ;  you  had  better,  indeed, 
put  out  your  lantern,  and  close  your  window,  that 
you  may  see  nothing  but  a  lively  black  about  you. 
I  will  go  hence,  lest  the  hue  of  my  girdle  exercise  a 
malignant  effect  upon  you ;  and,  if  you  will  betake 
yourself  to  bed,  I  will  send  hither  a  physician  of 
great  skill,  who  will  feel  your  pulses,  and  determine 
from  the  stars  what  medicines  you  should  use." 

The   Chinese  possess  many  secrets  of  physical 


%  18  TREASURE-TRO  VE. 

science  quite  unknown  to  the  philosophers  of  Eu- 
rope. Among  others  is  the  mysterious  dependence 
of  particular  colors  upon  particular  planets  ;  yellow 
upon  Saturn,  for  example,  and  black  upon  Mercury. 
White  is  their  mourning  color ;  and  black,  as  its 
opposite,  must  needs,  therefore,  be  regarded  among 
them  as  having  a  particularly  gay  and  agreeable 
character. 

A  Chinese  physician  is  not  content  with  feeling 
one  pulse  of  his  patient :  he  must  feel  many.  From 
each  he  learns  somewhat  of  the  disease ;  and  he 
needs  no  other  indications  to  guide  him.  It  is  a 
simple  plan,  and  removes  most  of  the  difficulties 
that  beset  the  European  doctor  in  the  formation  of 
his  diagnosis :  pulse  with  him  is  every  thing ;  like 
the  Brahmin,  he  lives  upon  pulse.  He  consults, 
indeed,  the  planets,  as  we  did  some  centuries  since  ; 
but  in  one  thing  he  resembles  our  modern  pharma- 
copoeists,  —  that  beyond  all  stars  he  believe  in  the 
healing  virtues  of  Mercury. 

So-Sli  wondered  what  the  solicitude  of  her  husband 
might  portend.  Was  Bou-Wou  awaiting  her  in  her 
chamber,  and  preparing  a  dose  of  bark?  "You 
don't  bite  me  so  easily,"  thought  So-Sli;  and  she 
entreated  Ho-Fi,  that,  if  she  should  betake  herself  to 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        219 

bed,  he  would  retire  to  rest  at  the  same  time.  He 
excused  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  must  forth- 
with call  a  physician  ;  and  though  for  a  while  she 
made  some  objections  to  this, — having  ever  enter- 
tained a  great  dislike  to  doctor's  stuff  and  doctor's 
learning,  which  she  classed  together  as  stuff  and 
nonsense,  she  could  not  but  give  in  at  last,  as  he 
insisted  upon  it  with  all  the  earnestness  of  affec- 
tionate solicitude. 

Ho-Fi  accordingly  went  to  seek  the  physician ; 
and  So-Sli  taking  a  lantern,  and  having  glanced  in 
a  mirror  to  assure  herself,  of  what  all  along  she  had 
strongly  suspected,  that  she  was  not  so  yellow  as 
silk,  and  that  her  eyes  were  not  so  dull  as  a  stewed 
shark's  fin,  proceeded  to  her  chamber,  and,  very  cau- 
tiously opening  the  door,  threw  in  a  bone  before  she 
would  enter  to  find  if  the  coast  were  clear. 

As  no  dog  snapped  at  the  bone,  So-Sli  felt  suffi- 
ciently assured  that  her  canine  enemy  was  not  in 
the  apartment.  She  ventured  into  it,  therefore,  but 
moved  about  with  great  circumspection ;  and  she 
examined  the  room  with  the  utmost  care,  to  discover 
what  danger  might  be  concealed  within  it ;  for  she 
had  fully  made  up  her  mind  that  there  was  some. 

She  looked  up  the  chimney ;  she  pryed  in  ever} 


220  TREASURE-TROVE. 

corner ;  she  turned  about  the  table  and  chairs  ;  she 
looked  in  the  oven  under  the  bed.  Yes,  truly,  the 
oven  was  under  the  bed.  So  to  place  it  is  the  com- 
mon practice  in  the  Chinese  empire,  and  unquestion- 
ably it  is  an  acute  plan.  In  one  side  of  a  chamber 
is  an  arched  recess,  in  which  is  placed  the  bed  on  a 
raised  platform,  and  beneath  that  the  oven.  What  a 
very  cosey  thing  upon  a  winter's  night !  The  warm- 
ing-pan as  large  as  the  mattress.  You  put  your 
bread  in  the  oven,  and  have  a  hot  roll  in  bed  \  but 
perhaps  this  practice  may  have  done  something 
towards  making  the  Chinese  rather  a  crusty 
people. 

So-Sli  was  not  yet  satisfied.  "What,"  said  she, 
"  an'  I  find  needles  in  my  bed  ? "  and  the  mere  idea 
gave  her  a  stitch  in  her  side.  She  lifted  the  bed- 
clothes, but  let  them  fall  again  much  more  quickly. 
She  was  frightened ;  but  she  did  not  shriek.  She 
gave  utterance  only  to  a  little  gasping  cry,  such  as 
might  proceed  from  a  terrified  "  sucking  dove  ; " 
and  she  did  not  run  away,  for,  though  she  had 
arrived  at  womanhood,  her  feet  were  as  those  of  an 
infant.  However,  she  tottered  back  a  few  paces, 
and  then  paused  to  consider  what  she  should  do. 

But  what  had  she  seen  in  the  bed  ?     Had  any  of 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        22 1 

you  seen  it,  my  fair  readers,  the  apparition  of  the 
old  gentleman's  tail,  to  which  it  bore  a  very  marked 
resemblance,  could  not  have  frightened  you  more. 
It  was  a  huge  black  adder.  You  must  not,  however, 
suppose,  that,  though  startled,  our  little  Celestial 
lady  was  scared  at  all  in  the  same  degree  that  you 
would  have  been  ;  by  reason  that  she  had  been  on 
most  familiar  terms  with  many  of  his  kin  in  the 
kitchen. 

So-Sli  hobbled  quietly  out  of  the  room.  She 
called  a  female  servant,  and  sent  her  into  the  court 
to  bring  a  young  rat  from  the  coop  ;  to  its  leg  they 
tied  a  small  stone,  and  put  it  in  a  large  long  earthen 
pot  with  a  small  neck ;  and,  just  peeping  under  the 
clothes  of  the  bed  to  see  whereabouts  the  adder  lay, 
they  thrust  this  in,  with  the  mouth  towards  him. 
They  listened,  and  after  a  time  fancied  that  they 
heard  him  glide  into  it ;  and  this  was  confirmed  by  a 
little  squeak  from  the  rat :  so,  cautiously  lifting  the 
clothes,  they  suddenly  raised  the  jar  upon  the  end, 
and  put  a  stopper  over  its  mouth.  The  adder  could 
not  but  perceive  that  he  was  rather  awkwardly  sit- 
uated. "  I  shall  '  go  to  pot,' "  thought  he  ;  but  it  was 
of  no  use  to  make  a  coil  about  it. 

So-Sli  sat  up  to  wait  the  return  of  her  loving  and 


222  TREASURE-TROVE. 

liege  lord.  "  I  shall  stay  by  him  a  little  yet,"  she 
said :   "  an  adder  shall  not  be  our  divider." 

Two  or  three  hours  elapsed  ere  he  came  back  : 
he  had  forgotten  the  physician. 

As  he  entered,  he  seemed  startled  at  beholding 
her.  "  My  dearest  So-Sli,"  he  said,  "  how  is  it  that 
you  have  not  retired  to  bed  as  I  requested  ? " 

"  While  you  were  absent  from  me,"  she  answered, 
"  how  could  I  have  rested  ?  I  should  have  been 
haunted  by  dragons  and  demons  and  cockatrices. 
Besides,  I  expected  to  see  the  physician,  and  I  was 
not  willing  that  he  should  visit  me  in  my  bed  cham- 
ber.    How  is  it  that  he  comes  not  with  you  ? " 

"  His  own  son,"  replied  Ho-Fi,  "  is  on  the  point 
of  death,  and  I  could  not  induce  him  to  leave  his 
bedside ;  but  he  desired  that  you  should  not  rise 
from  your  couch  whilst  the  cold  influence  was  upon 
you.  He  bade  me  spend  the  night  in  watching  and 
fasting,  and  at  midnight  to  gather  certain  simples 
on  the  hill  without  the  city,  from  which,  to-morrow, 
he  will  prepare  your  medicines.  I  conjure  you  then, 
as  you  love  my  yellow  girdle,  to  go  to  bed  without 
more  delay." 

So-Sli  at  last  assented  to  go  to  bed  alone ;  but  she 
would  not  do  so  until  he  should  have  partaken,  with 


HO-FI  OF  THE   YELLOW  GIRDLE.        223 

her,  of  a  soup,  which  she  said  she  had  prepared  for 
him  with  great  care,  believing  that  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  him  after  being  so  long  exposed  to  the 
damp  of  the  night.  To  this,  so  far  as  himself  was 
concerned,  Ho-Fi  had  no  reasonable  objection  to 
urge ;  but  for  her  sake  he  wished  that  it  had  not 
been  made,  and  he  earnestly  advised  her  by  no 
means  to  take  any  part  thereof.  The  night-air  had 
given  Ho-Fi  an  appetite. 

So-Sli  promised ;  and  they  sat  down  on  either  side 
of  a  small  bamboo  table.  A  lantern  was  placed 
upon  it ;  and  the  soup,  introduced  in  a  covered  bowl, 
was  put  before  Ho-Fi,  that  he  might  help  himself. 
He  had  placed  his  hand  upon  the  cover,  when  So- 
Sli  accidentally  knocked  the  lantern  from  the  table, 
and  the  light  was  extinguished.  She  rose  suddenly 
from  her  chair  in  great  alarm,  and,  in  doing  this, 
upset  the  little  table,  so  that  the  soup-bowl  was 
thrown  into  the  lap  of  Ho-Fi.  Ho-Fi  had  on  a  skin 
apron,  which  he  usually  wore  when  he  sat  down  to 
meals  ;  and  this  he  held  up  to  catch  his  supper  as  it 
fell.  But  alack  for  luckless  Ho-Fi !  his  supper 
caught  him  by  the  wrist,  and  made  him  roar  with 
agony.  So-Sli  knew  his  partiality  for  viper-soup,  but 
had  forgotten  to  have  die  reptile  cooked. 


224  TREA  S  URE-  TR  O  VE. 

But  So-Sli  did  not  escape  with  impunity.  Ho-Fi 
chased  her  around  the  apartment,  and,  driving  her 
at  last  into  a  corner,  beat  her  with  his  knotted  pig- 
tail in  an  unmerciful  manner,  until  the  pain  of  the 
bite  he  had  received  in  his  wrist  made  him  fall  down 
upon  the  floor,  and  grind  his  head  against  it. 
Whilst  he  was  so  employed,  his  wife  stepped  upon 
his  shoulder,  and,  jumping  over  him,  escaped  from 
the  house.  The  fright  she  was  in  gave  her  power  to 
run  as  never  before  her  legs  had  carried  her,  and 
that,  too,  without  crutches.  Fright  does  not  always 
thus  assist  in  getting  us  out  of  a  hobble. 

When  the  first  impetus  supplied  by  fear  had 
abated,  she  assumed  somewhat  more  of  her  ordinary 
walk.  Several  times  she  was  hailed  by  the  watch- 
men as  she  passed  through  the  streets,  but  they 
allowed  her  to  proceed ;  and  at  last,  sorely  spent 
with  the  fatigue  of  her  long  and  unsupported  totter- 
ing, she  arrived  at  her  father's  house. 

The  philosopher  had  already  retired  to  rest.  He 
was  angry  at  being  thus  aroused  ;  but  his  indignation 
was  beyond  all  bounds  when  he  heard  his  daughter's 
story.  "  I  will  appeal,"  he  said,  "  to  Pekin  in  this 
matter;  and  we  will  hang  Ho-Fi  in  his  yellow 
girdle." 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.         22$ 

Ho-Fi,  meanwhile,  when  the  first  paroxysm  of 
pain  had  subsided,  sent  for  a  barber-surgeon,  and 
had  his  wrist,  which  was  swollen  to  the  size  of  the 
calf  of  his  leg,  examined  and  dressed.  Moreover, 
having,  no  doubt,  heard  of  that  ancient  practice  in 
chirurgery  which  cured  the  wound  by  anointing  the 
weapon,  he  had  the  viper  dressed  also  ;  and  revenge 
furnished  an  excellent  sauce,  and  greatly  improved 
his  supper. 

Poo-Poo,  according  to  promise,  made  his  appeal 
to  the  emperor.  As  Ho-Fi  boasted  his  relationship 
to  the  imperial  family,  this  was  the  proper  course, 
though  the  local  courts  were  not  forbidden  to  exer- 
cise jurisdiction  in  similar  cases.  Commissioners 
were  sent  from  Pekin  to  investigate  the  affair. 

Ho-Fi  and  his  wife,  their  domestics,  Poo-Poo,  and 
a  few  other  persons  who  were  required  as  witnesses, 
were  summoned  before  the  tribunal.  Some  of  the 
relatives,  also,  of  the  former  wives  of  the  Yellow 
Girdle,  took  care  to  be  present  in  the  court. 

The  case  was  fully  examined.  Minute  evidence 
was  entered  into  to  prove  that  Ho-Fi  had  in  various 
ways  attempted  the  life  of  his  lady.  All  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  their  marriage  were  set  forth 
by  Poo-Poo.     So-Sli  gave  her   evidence  with  great 

J5 


226  TREASURE-TROVE. 

perspicuity;  and  her  statements  respecting  the  poi- 
soned tea  and  the  fierce  Bou-Wou,  as  well  as  con- 
cerning the  viper  in  the  bed,  were  corroborated  by 
the  testimony  of  the  servants.  Some  amateur  wit- 
nesses made  it  pretty  apparent  that  Ho-Fi's  former 
wives  had  all  of  them  been  Burked  and  Greenacred ; 
and  the  judges  and  jury  were  fully  satisfied  of  his 
guilt.  The  defence  did  not  shake  their  confidence, 
though  it  showed  that  faults  of  less  magnitude 
existed  in  some  other  parties.  The  verdict  of  the 
court  having  been  submitted  to  Pekin,  the  following 
proclamation  was  in  a  few  days  received  from  the 
emperor,  the  Son  of  Heaven,  and  Father  of  the 
Celestial  Empire.  It  was  addressed  to  all  his  sub- 
jects ;  that  is  to  say,  to  his  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  millions  of  children. 

"  Pekin,  the  sixth  month,  the  fourteenth  day,  the 
fifty-eighth  year  of  the  Emperor  Ho-Ho. 

"  Unless  the  laws  be  exercised,  even  on  the 
imperial  kindred,  they  will  not  be  obeyed. 

"When  the  mulberry  shall  degenerate  into  the 
thorn,  it  is  time  that  it  should  be  rooted  out. 

"  Guilt  shall  not  escape  the  penetrating  ears  ot 
Ho-Ho.     Ho-Ho  hath  long  ears. 

"  Ho-Ho  would  emulate  the  virtues  of  his  father, 


HO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        227 

Ha-Ha,  and  train  up  by  good  example,  his  son  He- 
He. 

"  It  hath  come  to  the  knowledge  of  Ho-Ho,  that 
a  certain  yellow  girdle,  namee  Ho-Fi,  residing  in 
the  city  of  Din-Din,  not  respecting  the  imperial 
pleasure,  so  often  proclaimed,  that  all  shall  live 
peaceably  together,  without  committing  offences 
against  their  neighbors,  hath  contumaciously  pre- 
sumed to  put  six  wives  to  death  by  various  devices, 
and  hath  in  like  manner  attempted  the  life  of  a 
seventh.  The  modes  of  their  deaths  have  been 
these  (for  each  he  accounted  falsely),  —  the  first 
fell  from  a  rock;  he  ascribed  it  to  female  giddi- 
ness :  the  second  was  drowned ;  he  said  that  she 
died  of  drink :  the  third  was  hanged ;  he  spoke  of 
her  tightness  of  breath:  the  fourth  was  poisoned; 
he  declared  she  was  not  careful  in  diet :  the  fifth 
was  starved ;  he  said  that  she  lived  too  low :  the 
sixth  was  choked  with  her  shoe ;  he  gave  out  that 
she  could  not  say  herself  how  she  died.  By  these 
evasions  he  for  a  while  eluded  justice  ;  but  the 
truth  hath  become  manifest;  the  chicken  hath 
pipped  the  shell ;  the  cat  can  no  longer  conceal  the 
kittens ;  the  parrot  hath  moulted,  let  him  be 
ashamed  of  his  tail. 


228  TREASURE-TRO  VE. 

"But  it  is  agreeable  to  the  rules  of  justice  that 
the  punishment  should  bear  some  reference  to  the 
particular  nature  of  the  crime.  This  was  the  at- 
tempted murder  of  the  seventh  wife,  which  he  hath 
essayed  by  poison,  by  a  dog,  and  by  a  viper.  It  is 
the  will,  then,  of  Ho-Ho,  that  Ho-Fi  be  punished  in 
this  manner :  that  he  be  stung  to  death  by  adders, 
and  that  his  heart  be  filled  with  poison,  and  given 
to  the  dog  Bou-Wou.  In  consideration  of  his 
former  enormities,  it  is  farther  ordered,  that  his 
body  be  cut  into  exceeding  small  pieces,  one  of 
which  shall  be  sent  to  every  square  ly  *  throughout 
the  empire,  and  stuck  upon  a  thorn.  That  his  ten 
nearest  relatives  be  put  to  death  also ;  but,  as  it  is 
well  to  temper  justice  with  mercy,  they  shall  be 
merely  strangled.  His  wife,  So-Sli,  shall  be  stran- 
gled likewise.  His  servants  shall  submit  each  to 
two  hundred  strokes  of  the  bamboo.  Poo-Poo,  the 
father  of  So-Sli,  shall  receive  five  hundred,  and 
shall  wear  the  wooden  collar  for  twelve  calendar 
months,  a  proper  reward  for  his  heretical  doctrines. 
The  allowance  of  pay  and  rice  to  all  yellow  girdles 
shall  cease  for  three  years ;  and  the  principal  man- 
darin of  Din-Din  shall  be  hung  up  in  his  house." 

*  A  ly  is  a  measure  of  distance  about  equal  to  our  furlong. 


ffO-FI  OF  THE    YELLOW  GIRDLE.        229 

For  "  hung  up  in  his  house,"  some  versions  of 
the  proclamation  read,  "  suspended  in  his  office." 

The  wind-up  of  this  enunciation  of  the  Celestia' 
will  is  too  long  for  insertion  here :  it  exhibits  a  fine 
struggle  between  a  proper  humility,  and  conscious 
wisdom. 

The  story  of  Ho-Fi  is  told.  Chinese  and  poetical 
justice  go  hand  in  hand.  His  name  has  long  been 
universally  execrated  throughout  the  Celestial 
Empire.  The  Greeks  borrowed  it ;  and  among  them 
oqn  was  an  expression  equivalent  to  "  Oh,  thou  ser- 
pent 1  "  Even  among  us  barbarous  inhabitants  of 
the  isles  of  the  Western  Ocean,  "  Oh,  fie  1 "  is  to 
this  day  used  to  convey  a  reproach. 


WALTON  REDIVIVUS. 

A    NEW    RIVER    ECLOGUE. 

Bt  Thomas  Hood. 

{PIS  C A  TOR  is  fishing,  near  the  Sir  Hugh  Middle- 
ton's  Head,  without  either  basket  or  can.  VIA- 
TOR cometh  up  to  him,  with  an  angling-rod  and 
a  bottle?) 

IA.  Good-morrow,  Master   Piscator.      Is 
there  any  sport  afloat  ? 

Pis.  I  have  not  been  here  time  enough 
to  answer  for  it.     It  is  barely  two  hours 
agone  since  I  put  in. 

Via.  The  fishes  are  shyer  in  this  stream  than  in 
any  water  that  I  know. 

Pis.  I  have  fished  here  a  whole  Whitsuntide 
through  without  a  nibble.  But  then  the  weather  was 
not  so  excellent  as  to-day.  This  nice  shower  will  set 
the  gudgeons  all  agape. 

Via.  I  am  impatient  to  begin. 


WALTON  REDIVIVUS.  .  231 

Pis.  Do  you  fish  with  gut  ? 
Via.  No — I  bait  with  gentles. 

Pis.  It  is  a  good  taking  bait :  though  my  question 
referred  to  the  nature  of  your  line.  Let  me  see  your 
tackle.  Why,  this  is  no  line,  but  a  ship's  cable.  It  is 
a  six-twist.  There  is  nothing  in  this  water  but  you 
may  pull  out  with  a  single  hair. 

Via.  What !  are  there  no  dace,  nor  perch  ? — 

Pis.  I  doubt  not  that  there  have  been  such  fish 
in  former  ages.  But  now-a-days  there  is  nothing  of 
that  size.  They  are  gone  extinct  like  the  mammoths. 
Via.  There  was  always  such  a  fishing  at  them. 
Where  there  was  one  angler  in  former  times,  there 
is  now  a  hundred. 

Pis.  A  murrain  on  them  ! — A  New  River  fish 
now-a-days,  cannot  take  his  common  swimming  ex- 
ercise, without  hitching  on  a  hook. 

Via.  It  is  a  natural  course  of  things,  for  man's 
populousness  to  terminate  other  breeds.  As  the 
proverb  says,  "  The  more  Scotchmen,  the  fewer  her- 
rings." It  is  curious  to  consider  the  family  of  whales 
growing  thinner  according  to  the  propagation  of  par- 
ish lamps. 

Pis.  Aye,  and  withal,  how  the  race  of  man,  who  is 
a  terrestrial  animal,  should  have  been  in  the  greatest 


a32  TREASURE-TROVE. 

jeopardy  of  extinction  by  the  element  of  water; 
whereas  the  whales,  living  in  the  ocean,  are  most 
liable  to  be  burnt  out. 

Via.  It  is  a  pleasant  speculation.  But  how  is 
this  ? — I  thought  to  have  brought  my  gentles  com- 
fortably in  an  old  snuff-box,  and  they  are  all  stark 
dead! 

Pis.  The  odor  hath  killed  them,  there  is  nothing 
more  mortal  than  tobacco,  to  all  kinds  of  vermin. 
Wherefore,  a  new  box  will  be  indispensable,  though 
for  my  own  practice,  I  prefer  my  waistcoat  pockets 
for  their  carriage.  Pray,  mark  this : — and  in  the 
meantime  I  will  lend  you  some  worms. 

Via.  I  am  much  beholden :  and  when  you  come 
to  Long  Acre  I  will  faithfully  repay  you.  But,  look 
you,  my  tackle  is  still  amiss.     My  float  will  not  swim. 

Pis.  It  is  no  miracle — for  here  is  at  least  a  good 
ounce  of  swanshots  upon  your  line.  It  is  over- 
charged with  lead. 

Via.  I  confess,  I  am  only  used  to  killing  sparrows, 
and  such  small  fowls,  out  of  the  back-casement.  But 
my  ignorance  shall  make  me  the  more  thankful  for 
your  help  and  instruction. 

Pis.  There.  The  fault  is  amended.  And  now 
observe, — you  must  watch  your  cork  very  narrowly, 


WALTON  REDIVIVUS. 


233 


without  even  an  eyewink  the  other  way  : — for  other- 
wise, you  may  overlook  the  only  nibble  throughout 
the  day. 

Via.  I  have  a  bite  already : — my  float  is  going 
up  and  down  like  a  ship  at  sea. 

Pis.  No,  it  is  only  that  housemaid  dipping  in  her 
bucket,  which  causes  the  agitation  you  perceive. 
'Tis  a  shame  so  to  interrupt  the  honest  angler's 
diversion.  It  would  be  but  a  judgment  of  God,  now, 
if  the  jade  should  fall  in  ! 

Via.  But  I  should  have  her  drowned  only  for  some 
brief  twenty  minutes  or  so — and  then  restored  again 
by  the  Surgeons.  And  yet  I  have  doubts,  of  the  law- 
fulness of  that  dragging  of  souls  back  again,  that 
have  taken  their  formal  leaves.  In  my  conscience, 
it  seems  like  flying  against  the  laws  of  predestination. 

Pis.  It  is  a  doubtful  point ; — for,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  have  heard  of  some  that  were  revived  into 
life  by  the  Doctors,  and  came  afterwards  to  be 
hanged. 

Via.  Marry !  'tis  a  pity  such  knaves'  lungs  were 
ever  puffed  up  again.  It  was  good  tobacco-smoke 
ill-wasted.  Oh  !  how  pleasant,  now,  is  this  angling, 
which  furnishes  us  with  matter  for  such  agreeable 
discourse !     Surely  it  is  well  called  a  contemplative 


234  TREASURE-TROVE. 

recreation,  for  I  never  had  half  so  many  thoughts 
in  my  head  before  ! 

Pis.  I  am  glad  you  relish  it  so  well. 

Via.  I  will  take  a  summer  lodging  hereabouts,  to 
be  near  the  stream.  How  pleasant  is  this  solitude  1 
There  are  but  fourteen  a-fishing  here — and  of  those 
but  few  men. 

Pis.  And  we  shall  be  still  more  lonely  on  the  other 

side  of  the  City  Road.    Come,  let's  across.    Nay,  we'll 

put  in  our  lines  lower  down.     There  was  a  butcher's 

wife  dragged  for  at  this  bridge  in  the  last  week. 

Via.  Have,  you,  indeed,  any  qualms  of  that  kind  ? 

Pis.  No,  but  hereabouts  'tis  likely  the  gudgeons 
will  be  gorged.  Now,  we  are  far  enough.  Yonder 
is  the  row  of  Colebrook.  What  a  balmy,  wholesome 
gust  is  blowing  over  to  us  from  the  cow-lair. 

Via.  For  my  part,  I  smell  nothing  but  dead  kit- 
tens— for  here  lies  a  whole  brood  in  soak.  Would 
you  believe  it,  to  my  fantasy,  the  nine  days'  blind- 
ness of  these  creatures  smacks  somewhat  of  the  type 
of  the  human  pre-existence.  Methinks,  I  have  had 
myself  such  a  mysterious  being  before  I  beheld  the 
light — my  dreams  hint  of  it.  A  sort  of  world  before 
eye  sight. 

Pis.  I  have  some  dim  sympathy  with  your  mean- 


WALTON  REDIVIVUS.  23$ 

ing.  At  the  creation,  there  was  such  a  kind  of  blind- 
man's-buff  work.  The  atoms  jostled  together,  be- 
fore there  was  a  revealing  sun.  But  are  we  not  fish- 
ing too  deep  ? 

Via.  I  am  afraid  on't !  Would  we  had  a  pkimmet. 
We  shall  catch  weeds. 

Pis.  It  would  be  well  to  fish  thus  at  the  bottom, 
if  we  were  fishing  for  flounders  in  the  sea.  But 
there  you  must  have  forty  fathom,  or  so,  of  stout 
line  ;  and  then,  with  your  fish  at  the  end,  it  will  be 
the  boy's  old  pastime  carried  into  another  element. 
I  assure  you,  'tis  like  swimming  a  kite. 

Via.  It  should  be  pretty  sport — but  hush !  My 
cork  has  just  made  a  bob.  It  is  diving  under  the 
water  ! — Hallo  ! — I  have  catched  a  fish  1 

Pis.  Is  it  a  great  one  ? 

Via.  Purely,  a  large  one  !  Shall  I  put  it  into  the 
bottle  ? 

Pis.  It  will  be  well, — and  let  there'  be  a  good 
measure  of  water  too,  lest  he  scorch  against  the  glass. 

Via.   How  slippery  and  shiny  it  is  !   Ah,  he  is  gone  ! 

Pis.  You  are  not  used  to  the  handling  of  a  New 
River  fish  ;  and  indeed  very  few  be.  But  hath  he 
altogether  escaped  ? 

Via.  No,  I  have  his  chin  here,  which  I  was  obliged 
to  tear  off.  to  set  awav  mv  hook. 


236  TREASURE-TROVE. 

Pis.  Well,  let  him  go ;  it  would  be  labor  wasted 
to  seek  for  him  amongst  this  rank  herbage.  'Tis 
the  commonest  of  anglers'  crosses. 

Via.  I  am  comforted  to  consider  he  did  not  fall 
into  the  water  again,  as  he  was  without  a  mouth,  and 
might  have  pined  for  years.  Do  you  think  there  is 
any  cruelty  in  our  art  ? 

Pis.  As  to  other  methods  of  taking  fish,  I  cannot 
say :  But  I  think  none  in  the  hooking  of  them.  For, 
to  look  at  the  gills  of  a'  fish,  with  those  manifold  red 
leaves — like  a  housewife's  needle-book, — they  are 
admirably  adapted  to  our  purpose,  and  manifestly 
intended  by  nature  to  stick  our  steel  in. 

Via.  I  am  glad  to  have  the  question  so  comfortably 
resolved — for,  in  truth,  I  have  had  some  misgivings. 
Now,  look  how  dark  the  water  grows  !  There  is 
another  shower  towards. 

Pis.  Let  it  come  down,  and  welcome,  I  have 
only  my  working-day  clothes  on.  Sunday  coats 
spoil  holidays.  Let  everything  hang  loose,  and  time, 
too,  will  sit  easy. 

Via.  I  like  your  philosophy.  In  this  world  we 
are  the  fools  of  restraint.  We  starch  our  ruffs  till 
they  cut  us  under  the  ear. 

Pis.  How  pleasant  it  would  be  to  discuss  these 


WALTON  REDIVIVUS.  437 

sentiments  over  a  tankard  of  ale !  I  have  a  simple 
bashfulness  against  going  into  a  public  tavern  ;  but  I 
think  we  could  dodge  into  the  Castle  without  being 
much  seen. 

Via.  And  I  have  a  sort  of  shuddering  about  me 
that  is  willing  to  go  more  frankly  in.  Let  us  put  up, 
then.  By  my  halidom !  here  is  a  little  dead  fish 
hanging  at  my  hook,  and  yet  I  have  never  felt 
him  bite. 

Pis.  Tis  only  a  little  week-old  gudgeon,  and  he 
had  not  strength  enough  to  stir  the  cork.  However, 
we  may  say  boldly  that  we  have  caught  a  fish. 

Via.  Nay,  I  have  another  here  in  my  bottle.  He 
was  sleeping  on  his  back  at  the  top  of  the  water, 
and  I  got  him  out  nimbly  with  the  hollow  of  my 
hand. 

Pis.  We  have  caught  a  brace,  then, — besides  the 
great  one  that  was  lost  among  the  grass.  I  am  glad 
on't,  for  we  can  bestow  them  on  some  poor  hungry 
person  in  our  way  home.  It  is  passable  good  sport 
for  the  place. 

Via.  I  am  satisfied  it  must  be  called  so.  But  the 
next  time  I  come,  I  shall  bring  a  reel  with  me,  and 
a  newly-made  minnow,  for  I  am  certain  there  must 
be  some  marvellous  huge  pikes  here ;  they  always 


2*S 


IRE  A  SURE-  TRO  VE. 


make  a  scarcity  of  other  fish.  However,  I  have 
been  bravely  entertained,  and  at  the  first  holiday.  I 
will  come  to  it  asrain. 


KINTS. 


-S5> 


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